


Beyond the Shadow

by Starkgirlfriday



Series: The Curiously Redacted Files of Cipher Nine [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 108,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkgirlfriday/pseuds/Starkgirlfriday
Summary: After faking her death to further investigate and stop the Star Cabal, Evibail Colspur (Cipher Nine) finds herself drawn into a new mysterious conspiracy, where an ancient sleeping evil re-awakens old friendships and sparks new alliances.





	1. Where Good Dreams Go Bad

The cold, dark recess of space stretched out into the void where a blanket of stars glimmered in the distance. Large plastoid and durasteel pillars stretched up from the base of one rocky planetoid to a larger one that hovered precariously overhead. Evie crouched in the shadows, listening to the distant cries of the street vendors and hawkers as they plied their wares to chary travelers. Her ears detected the familiar shuffle of her quarry. Stealthily, she slipped into the bustling crowds that were funneled into two long lines flowing in opposite directions between large shipping crates. Her pace was slow, leisurely even, her eyes were downcast, the collar of her white leatheris jacket was turned upward to guard her neck against the bitter chill. To any overly curious eyes, she was a traveler, using the outpost of Kafrene as a waypoint between planets on a long pilgrimage. 

Her prey, a tall Trandoshan with glossy green scales, slowed his lumbering gait to a crawl. Evie adjusted her pace to match. She stopped at a food stall, where the scent of roasted vegetables stewing in heavily spiced broth wafted fragrantly through the air. Above the stall, the looming shipping container was littered with fluorescent sprays of graffiti in various languages and vibrant colors. Each traveler had stopped to make their mark, some more eloquently, or crudely than others. Evie’s eyes lingered over one of the hastily scrawled messages, which read: ‘Where good dreams go bad’. 

It was an apt description of Kafrene. So many of the inhabitants came from other planets to seek their fortunes on more profitable worlds, only to have their dreams dashed by the floating asteroids overhead. Evie too, found herself lingering longer on the outpost than she liked. Six months on this wretched planetoid and she was no closer to achieving her objective. Her solo hunt for the remaining members of the Star Cabal had grown nebulous at best. The closer she came to discovering the identity of the prominently placed sleeper agent buried in the heart of the SIS upper echelons, the farther away the answer seemed to be. 

The dim light, the constant swirling shift of the landscape, and her positively stymied investigation ate away at her spirits until there was naught left to her but flesh and bone. Going into exile had district advantages for her work; she was able to strike faster without the weight of five additional comrades to worry about. There were also disadvantages. She’d grown rather reliant on their talents; Vector’s steady conscience, Lokin’s ability to stitch her every scrape back together, Temple’s unbridled optimism and marksmanship— at her lowest point she even missed Scorpio. It was Kaliyo she missed most of all, though she’d never admit that to her. There was something about the irascible Rattataki’s ability to get her into trouble that left a rather gaping hole in her life. She’d lasted six months before the irrational emptiness wore her down. 

Out of desperation, (in her mind it was a moment of inexcusable weakness) and the desire for their company, Evie humbled herself. She reached out to her crew for their help—the reunion did not go as expected. 

She’d thought (wrongly) that they had an understanding. She thought (wrongly) that they knew that her choices were her own and that emotional attachments were not to conflict with fulfilling their duties. Three days passed since their reunion, their outrage still ebbed and flowed. She tried to explain that faking her death was a necessary component to her plan, that the Star Cabal and the Empire wouldn’t have bought into the idea if she had taken her whole crew with her into hiding. Her logic was met with mixed emotions and a decisive curl of the lip. After a day of stony silence, they had forgiven her enough to reluctantly agree to help her with her mission. 

Evie brought her mind back to the task at hand. The Trandoshan quickened his pace, She waited until his gleaming scales nearly disappeared into the crowd before she gave chase and activated her comm link.

“Cipher Nine to crew,” She murmured in a low voice. 

Foot traffic was heavy; shoulders and pointed elbows jabbed into her flesh as she walked. Evie never took her eyes off of the Trandoshan. He was one of the last names on the Black Codex; the remaining link in a stifled investigation into the shadowy figure hidden high in the ranks of the Republic. 

“We’re in position, Sir,” Temple’s voice was bright, it chirped through the murky atmosphere and was bristling with the joy of the hunt. 

“Good. He’s slipped ahead of me and appears to be heading your direction, Temple. Be prepared to give pursuit at my mark. Lokin, what is your status?” 

“The interrogation droid is prepped, provided that you’re able to keep an eye on the Trandoshan this time.” Lokin’s voice dripped with haughty reproach. 

Evie’s eyes rolled into the back of her skull; it was a thinly-veiled reference to the previous day’s activities when she lost sight of the Trandoshan in the shift of shanty houses that occurred every few hours. Her lack of honesty about her disappearance irked his more passive-aggressive tendencies. Kaliyo raged, Temple burst frequently into tears, Scorpio was her usual unsettling self. Lokin was the epitome of Imperial choler—quiet seething, drawn brows, terse sentences that ended with ‘yes’ or ‘no’. He took pot shots at her whenever the opportunity presented itself, which meant, that he was slowly warming to her again. By her estimate, based on the Imperial standard of emotional regulation, they would be on speaking terms again in three to six months. 

The Trandoshan darted down another narrow pass way, Evie quickened her steps and followed behind. As she rounded the corner, he took a dive down onto another street. He was sprinting; Evie groaned and mashed her comm button. 

“Temple, he’s on the run again. It’s up to you. If you hurry you can catch him on the passage that runs parallel to my coordinates. Kaliyo, where in the blazes are you?” 

The comm was silent for two full minutes. Was it possible the Trandoshan had a partner? 

“Kaliyo, do you copy?” Evie demanded with a shaky voice. She was mid-way through reversing her direction and running to Kaliyo’s assigned position when her comm buzzed in her ear. 

“Oh sorry. Were you calling me?” Kaliyo asked casually with a hint of mischief in her voice. 

“Yes, why did you disappear?” 

“Stopped to have a Grog on the way. I would have comm’d to let you know I’d be out of touch for a while, but apparently, that’s not something we do anymore.” 

Kaliyo was taking a page out of Lokin’s holonovel and trying a more subtle approach to voicing her displeasure with Evie’s disappearance. 

“Really. You want to do this now?” Evie shot back in frustration. 

“Oh no. You’re breaking up...” Kaylio made a series of clicking and poorly emulated gargling noises to create static on the comm. 

“I know you can hear me. We’ll finish this later. Get to Temple’s location, help her capture the Trandoshan, and take him alive—we need to question him.” 

Evie rounded the corner; shanties, piles of scrap metal and junk littered the narrow street. Residents sat huddled in their homes, their meager possessions tied into bundles in case the landscape shifted and they needed to relocate quickly. There was a stitch in her side; her head ached after three days of no sleep, still, she pressed on. He would not escape this time! 

She rounded a second corner and caught sight of the Trandoshan veering down a third, nearly imperceptible street to her left. He surveyed his surroundings to ensure he was alone; Evie tucked herself closer to a nearby shanty. He gave a brief nod, satisfied that he wasn’t being followed and stepped into the shadowy pathway. 

“Cipher Nine to crew; I have him. Northwest corridor. Sending the coordinates now.” 

She crept up to the path, drew her blaster, and took a long breath as she settled her back against the durasteel column. She pivoted on her the heel of her boot with her blaster up; the path was narrow, the stars did little to light the way. Clouds of noxious ammonia drifted downward from hanging ventilation shafts. This was the tenement settlement. Aliens, grifters, spicers, and anyone else who didn’t want to be found slapped together three sheets of durasteel for shelter and called it their home. She approached cautiously, keeping her finger curled around the trigger of her blaster. 

Evie did a quick scan with her bracers—there was one life form at the end of the path. She was walking into a trap; the hair on her neck and arms lifted in response to the silent threat; a shiver ran down her spine. There was a shift of boots against the rough stone. Without a moment’s hesitation she fired her toxicity dart from her bracers in the direction of the sound. The dart flew toward the intended target, then, froze midair like it was stopped by an invisible force field. It fell harmlessly to the ground with a small metallic ‘ping’. Evie hesitated; she didn’t have the means to subdue and question the Trandoshan on her own. Temple and Vector were at least three minutes out. If Kaylio deemed it appropriate to intervene she might be there sooner; Evie could also see her sitting out this fight just to prove a point. 

“There’s no need for violence. I haven’t come to hurt you.” The voice was prim, low and dulcet, with the properly placed vowels of a stalwart Imperial. 

Evie blinked twice and shook her head, thinking that she hallucinated it. From her vantage point, her eyes made out the vague outline of a shadow, average height, with a slim build. Clearly, this was not the Trandoshan. 

“Show yourself now or I’ll shoot. This is your only warning.” Evie barked; her voice echoed into the trembling silent air. 

There was a whoosh of air; the unmistakable ignition of a lightsaber growled in the darkness eerily glowing in varying hues of flickering red. The red light illuminated the tenements; the owner of the saber lingered in shadow. Then it happened; Evie’s blaster gave a wobbling jerk and sailed out of her hand as though it were blown away by a sharp gust of wind. The owner of the saber caught the blaster between finger and thumb. In response to the loss of her blaster, Evie’s hand reached automatically to the row of knives on her belt. 

“It’s a bold choice to give a Sith a warning, Agent Colspur.” The voice dropped an octave, radiating with more malicious intent than the echoing hum of the saber. 

“Bold is the only type of choice I know how to make. And since you already know who I am then you know that I won’t come quietly.” 

Evie palmed one of her poison knives, her muscles tensed for the pending fight. In response, the speaker disengaged their lightsaber and slowly walked forward into the single pool of light from the window of a second story tenement. The speaker was a woman, a few years older than Evie, with pale hair and golden gleaming eyes that twinkled with amusement. 

“Then the stories are true—you’re just the person I need. Agent Colspur, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lana Beniko, Sith Intelligence. I need your help.” 

 

Minutes later, they were ensconced across from each other on two red plastoid stools, each with their arms folded akimbo. The Sith studied Evie with a narrow gaze and an ever-present smile on her lips. Two glasses of Ale and a dish of noodles appeared. Evie’s eyes darted around the stall nervously; it was packed to the brim. Residents roared at each other in order to be heard over the din of many people crammed into a small space. 

It was the only stall in Kafrene where the Vesti noodles were crisped to perfection, the Ale was cold and plentiful, and most importantly always had a surplus of travelers and residents. Evie presumed, she hoped correctly, that the Sith would be less inclined to attack with a room full of witnesses. She leaned her elbows against the durasteel table and took a long slow sip of her Ale, a silent message to her companion that she was declining to speak first (a play straight from the Imperial Academy handbook.) Lana lifted her glass to Evie in salute and took a cautious sip.

“To work,” She began after she folded her hands tidily on the table top. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?” 

“The question did cross my mind once or twice.” Evie returned drily; from the corner of her eyes, she saw Kaliyo poised at the edge of the stall. They locked eyes; Evie gave an imperceptible wave of her hand to signal the all-clear. She scrupulously ignored Evie as she walked past and plopped herself down at a nearby table to keep watch as a silent sentinel. Kaliyo studied the menu with one hand while keeping the other with a firm grip on her blaster. 

“You’ve heard about the incident on Korriban.” Lana’s voice was flat, and dark with meaning. Evie’s brows drew downward in confusion and concern. 

“News travels slowly outside of the Core Worlds. You’ll have to enlighten me...” 

“Six days ago, the Republic led an all-out assault on Korriban. The Sith Academy was taken; there were heavy loses...” The Sith, who demonstrated remarkable composure up until that point, appeared defeated, her voice broke at the mention of the loses. 

Evie scanned the room, ensuring that there were no unfriendly listening ears, and allowed the news to wash over her. Despite her best efforts to prevent the spread of the war, the Star Cabal managed to provoke the Empire and Republic into conflict. She knew that there were widespread battles, but this...This was an escalation of epic proportions. 

“There’s more to it, I take it.” Evie prompted, seeing that Lana was drifting into a horrified revelry. 

“Just so,” Lana took a long sip of her Ale and eyed it with a mixture of approval and disdain at the offending beverage. Evie made note that her Sith ally abhorred Ale but was doing her level best to put on a show of liking it—the mark of a well-trained agent of the Empire. 

“The attack is not so shocking, the Republic has been eyeing larger symbolic targets for over a decade. It was the method—“ Lana leaned forward and motioned for Evie to do the same. “They launched the attack whilst we were off-world, during our attack on Tython.” 

Evie’s posture, which was rounded to a slump to match the atmosphere of the crowd straightened instantly. She placed her palms onto the table, struggling to keep her face neutral to the news. In contrast, Lana leaned back, with a self-satisfied smirk on her lips, seeing that she had piqued Evie’s interest. 

“Why come to me?” Evie inquired, loosening her posture and rearranging her expression to appear disaffected and bored. 

“Sith intelligence is in disarray. More than half of our operatives were killed in the assault on the Academy. I suspect that the timing of the two attacks is linked and that somehow a group within our forces are working together to wreak havoc but I don’t know how or who. I’m afraid you might be the only person I can trust at the moment...” 

“You must be desperate.” Evie’s mouth tilted upward into a wry, skeptical expression which dropped instantly when it was met with an imperious, cold glare. Evie rearranged her features into a more appropriately solemn expression. “I see one flaw with your plan.” 

“Really, what’s that?” 

“You’re currently conversing with a dead woman. It wouldn’t be prudent for me to go galavanting around the galaxy into Republic or Imperial Territory. If either entity knew I was alive, well, let’s just say it would result in some difficult circumstances for myself, and my companions. Incidentally, how ever did you find me?” 

Lana’s lips pulled upward into a small ironic smile. She was unlike any Sith that Evie had ever met before. Where there was usually a demonic burn of fiery anger, Lana was cool. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, but the control she managed was more like the blue center of an open flame. 

“I had my suspicions. There were the disappearances, of course. Prominent members of Republic and Imperial society who either turned up dead or disgraced—oh don’t worry, they were eventually found to be members of the Star Cabal. You’ve made excellent use of the Black Codex, I see...” 

Evie inclined her head but kept her lips firmly sealed. Lana’s smile deepened at Evie’s coy avoidance. 

“All of those little things added up to quite a mystery but it was your little sojourn to Ziost that gave it away. That was the tipping point. Why, I wondered, would anyone go to the trouble to rescue a single prisoner from one of the most secure facilities in the galaxy? There were only a handful of operatives with the skills to manage the feat. When I saw that it was your mother that was rescued, I knew that we had been duped...” 

Evie’s smile faded gradually. If Lana knew about her mother, all of the reasons behind her disappearance, it was possible that those she fought so desperately to protect were in jeopardy. 

“I won’t work for the Sith if that’s what you’re proposing.” 

“Don’t be so prosaic. You’d work for me, or rather, you’d work with me if you agree to my terms.” 

“What are your terms?” 

“If you agree to help me expose whatever strange conspiracy is afoot, I can make all of your more questionable decisions disappear. Your contracts will be considered to be paid in full. More importantly, I can offer you a full pardon for your more recent egregious acts of treason and bring you out of hiding...” 

Evie drummed her fingers on the corrugated metal table as she thought. The offer sounded too good to be true. 

“And should I refuse your generous offer?” 

“There will be the usual consequences, millions will perish, they’ll be a great deal of suffering in the galaxy—your decisions, your contracts, your treasonous acts will become active again and you will be hunted mercilessly by the Empire until you’re dead, physically this time, not just metaphorically. Provided, of course, that I let it slip that we met...”

Evie sat back in her seat and studied her companion further. 

“You wouldn’t tell your bosses. Why?” 

“The old ways, blackmail, deception, ruthlessly butchering for the sake of reputation...it’s all so tiresome, don’t you think? I’d prefer instead if we could form an alliance. You have the skills and the anonymity that I need. I can offer you a clean slate.” 

“If I help you, you’ll clear my record? No more contracts, no execution for treason? You’ll keep my name out of the light until I’m a free agent...” Evie’s eyes narrowed, waiting for the catch. 

“You have my word.” 

Evie scrutinized Lana’s features. There was no duplicitous flash in her eyes, no hint of doublespeak. Perhaps, her fortunes were finally starting to shift. Evie weighed her options. Her past dealings with Sith ended typically with an electric jolt of purple lightning. Lana appeared to be a pragmatist, a trait that, above all others, Evie admired most. 

“Very well, where do we start?” 

“You,” Lana said with a pause for effect as she tidily drew her cloak around her shoulders. “Should continue with your attempts to capture your Trandoshan friend. If my sources are correct, he makes his home near the shipping depot. I’ll send word with coordinates for our next meeting.” 

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Evie offered Lana her hand to shake. Hesitantly, Lana clasped hands with Evie with a short jerk. 

“May the Force ever serve you, Agent Colspur.” 

Lana paused and smiled with a perplexed questioning air. Evie knew the question before Lana mustered the courage to ask and dreaded it. 

“I do have one question. Your file contains two contracts, one for your mother’s life and one for the life of an SIS Agent whose name was redacted. Would you mind explaining—“ 

Evie cut her off abruptly with a firm, unwavering gaze. 

“Unfortunately, I do mind. That answer is classified.”


	2. Agent Terminated

Datapad after datapad after flimsiplast was dropped into a single container that sat precariously balanced on the edge of his desk. He didn’t bother to sort or arrange the items. He moved with great haste, dumping all of his meager possessions into the crate, which he would soon drop with relish into the nearest trash compactor. His tenure as an analyst was finally over; he was free to get his hands dirty again, dig into the series of transmissions that were intercepted before and during the attack on Tython—his hand paused. 

His fingers clutched the last datapad on his desk. The one he painstakingly avoided at all costs by staying busy. It was his preferred method of avoidance; the lingering guilt that weighed on his conscience couldn’t bubble to the surface if he never stopped moving. He arranged outings with Jonas to gambling tables, several unsuccessful and tediously boring dates with Meaava. Every day he pushed the datapad and his memories further from his mind, though he was never truly able to relinquish them completely. Instead, the datapad lingered in the corner of his desk, hidden between layers of flimsi to prevent his eyes from darting to it, or his hands from flicking on the screen to gaze at the holo that was permanently scored to his memory one more time. 

It was covered with a thick layer of dust. There was one last order of business that needed completion if he was truly to be free of his desk-jockey status. He flicked the datapad screen on, used the edge of his sleeve to wipe away the passage of time. As if by magic, the pit in his stomach returned the moment her holo appeared on the screen. The letters on the screen still read in bold red lettering: MIA at the top. It needed to be finished, he needed to input the words ‘Agent Terminated’ and finally be rid of the invisible burden that hung heavily across his shoulders. Yet, every time he tried, he found another reason not to. 

Today’s chosen excuse: time, or rather, a lack of it. Hesitantly, he weighed the datapad in his hand in silent debate. Should he throw it into the discard crate or finally submit the report? The thought hit his gut like a sucker punch and he swallowed hard. He ought to bring all of his analyst work to a close; he needed to focus with a clear mind on the aftermath of Tython. Still, as his eyes lingered again on the holo, a mysterious instinct motivated him to flick the datapad off instead. The final pronouncement had waited sixth standard months, what was a few more days? With a shrug, he tucked the datapad into the jacket pocket closest to his heart and he whistled a jaunty tune all the way to the garbage chute. As the last of the contents of his desk dropped down the durasteel chute with an echoing thud, he brushed the dust off of his gloves, his shoulders sat a little straighter, and a genuine smile lifted the lines of his cheeks. He turned, and collided headlong into Jonas Balkar. 

“Well, well. Aren’t we the picture of robust health and happiness? I take it the date with Meaava went well last night...” Jonas waggled his eyebrows at Theron suggestively. 

Theron fought the urge to punch him square in the jaw. This was not the conversation he wanted to have ever, especially not right when he was about to experience his first taste of freedom away from a desk in sixth months. 

“It went about how you’d expect,” Theron mumbled, with his eyes downcast to the floor. “We had a nice time.” 

He even managed, he thought, a convincing flush to his cheeks to sell his story. In truth, he’d holocommed Meeava and gently let her down after two abysmally dreadful dates. There was no spark between them, they had nothing of interest to say to each other. It was like being trapped in a fresher whose setting was stuck to tepid. 

Jonas eyed the square misshapen bulge in Theron’s jacket, and his sharp eyes noted the silver edge of the tucked away datapad. 

“You need to train in evasion, Shan. It’s a miracle you haven’t been killed in the field.” 

“What gave me away?” 

“Meaava’s been at my desk all morning, sobbing.” Jonas grasped the edge of the datapad between finger and thumb. “Lucky for you and for her, I’m an excellent listener.” 

“You’re not her type.”

“Haven’t you heard? There’s a shortage; her type doesn’t appear to be available at the moment...” 

He pulled the datapad into his hands with a look that was equal parts exasperation and disappointment. He flicked it on, took in the holo, and shook his head as he let his chin drop to his chest in defeat. 

“You can’t say that I didn’t try to help you.” He tucked the datapad back into Theron’s jacket pocket with a shrewd lift of one eyebrow at the placement of said datapad. 

In a show of remarkable self-restraint, Jonas didn’t offer further judgment. Instead, he mercifully changed the subject away from Theron’s love life, his favorite topic of late, and onto a subject that held Theron’s attention. 

“Did you hear the latest on Tython?” 

“I caught bits and pieces. Something about Colonel Darok working with someone on the Imp side. I can’t say I’m surprised...” 

“You seem to have started a trend.” Jonas teased with a grin when Theron winced with a slightly pained expression. Both men avoided each other’s eyes; Jonas cleared his throat awkwardly and changed tactics. “Darok always walked a fine line between the light and the dark—there’s more to it than that. Rumor has it that they’re after some piece of tech on Manaan. All sorts of strange intel, missing scientists, cultists...” 

Jonas let his voice trail off, his eyes drifted to Theron’s face smugly, knowing that he had his friend completely enraptured. 

“Someone ought to investigate that...” Theron remarked casually. Jonas smile widened from ear to ear. 

“Someone already is. You leave for Manaan tonight...” 

“Me?” Theron asked incredulously; he wondered briefly if his implants had shorted out and disrupted his hearing. “Trant expressly forbade me from even thinking about traveling to another planet. Said he’d have a sniper take me out before the thought could even enter my head.” 

“Trant was the one that suggested this—or actually, he suggested it after I said that you were the right agent for the job. I’ve got my hands full. Corellia is a disastrous mess; Saresh is calling for resignations from the SIS—specifically yours by name. Trant and I want you to keep your job; you need to be as far away from Coruscant as possible. Let us deal with the politicians...”

“I can handle Saresh.” Theron ground out crossly between clenched teeth. 

“Yes, I remember the last time you ‘handled it’. Getting into a shouting match with a senator isn’t a good look for the SIS.” 

“She started it.” 

“Yes, and she can finish it. You’re lucky she isn’t calling for you to be executed for treason. Look, Theron, do me a favor,” Jonas reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a datacard. He handed it to Theron with a precautionary look over his shoulder. “Stay out of trouble this time—no new Imperial friendships, no uprisings, no secret investigations. It’s not just your career that’s on the line this time...”

“What’s this?” Theron asked, turning the card over in his hand thoughtfully. 

“All the intel I have on Manaan. It’s mostly garbled transmissions. The latest was intercepted this morning. Darok sent a message to someone called Darth Arkous. Two names keep cropping up regularly—Lana Beniko and Agent Colspur. If I were you, I’d start there.” 

 

The seas of Manaan shimmered with streaks of silver and white as waves crested and crashed against the sea wall. The air was cool, sprays of saltwater permeated his nostrils. Theron inhaled deeply for the first time in sixth months. The yellow gold of the sun warmed and traced his cheeks. He was surrounded by a plethora of wealthy tourists dressed in bathing suits, snapping holos together, completely oblivious to the war that waged on in the galaxy. 

A human couple, practically inseparable at the lips, flagged him down with a vigorous wave. They were dressed in the tacky clothing of tourists, florid colors, footwear that was egregiously impractical with laces and straps that looked like they would fall apart the minute they traveled a great distance. 

“Can you take a holo of us?” They asked in a synchronized fashion between small, impulsive pecks. Reluctantly, he agreed to the task with a mixture of revulsion and intrigue at their display. He lined up their faces in the frame; they were basking in the glow of each other’s company, their eyes locked on the other. He snapped the holo, taking care to capture the expression and the mist of the sea behind them. 

“Newlyweds?” He asked casually as he handed back their holocam. They each eagerly reviewed the holo with a genuinely delighted air. 

“No, not yet.“ The man answered breezily with a sly wink at Theron that indicated that the future was already set into motion. He planted a kiss to his beloved’s forehead. “This one’s never seen the sea before. Thought I would surprise her. Thanks for your help!” 

They vaulted down the sea wall path with a tinkling of carefree laughs. Theron watched wistfully as they disappeared into the horizon. It was hard for him not to be cynical. That type of feeling, giddy and elated was fleeting...wasn’t it? They’d discover each other’s ugly secrets, the love would fade. Real love didn’t exist in the galaxy, or at least it didn’t for him. He stowed away the bitter, envious feeling deep in his mind, and pulled out his datapad. 

According to intelligence chatter, Lana Beniko, was a Sith intelligence operative of great repute and Darth Arkous’ closest advisor. She was last seen in the garment district at a neighborhood Cantina. Agent Colspur was some sort of Imperial operative; the details on this person were scant. The name nagged in his mind but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen it before. There was little to no chatter about him, save for the name. He plugged in the coordinates to his bracers, and threaded his way through the throngs of tourists, while his mind traipsed back to the one time where he thought, wrongly, that he’d shared that same giddy excitement he’d seen in the couple from the holo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter! More to come soon. Thanks for reading!


	3. An Unexpected Reunion

The false nose itched, her head ached from the strain of pulling her hair tight to her scalp to slip it underneath the short black wig that did her sharp facial features no favors. Her scalp tingled in a way that made her want to claw at it. The wig and the nose were offensive, the clothing was positively obscene. Her shirt was a vibrant clash of chartreuse and orange, the pants were too long and ill-fitting for her short frame. She was a frumpy tourist, a person with poor taste from a backwater planet where they supposed people dressed like this while they were on vacation. 

“Lana, is all this really necessary?” Evie sighed into the comm with disgruntled voice. 

“Yes, it is. I have it on good authority that there are SIS agents on Manaan. So unless you fancy your little secret being exposed, I suggest that you keep your complaints to a minimum.” 

“It’s undignified,” Evie grumbled under her breath as she gave the collar of her heinous shirt an ungracious tug with her finger. 

Lana unleashed a long hiss of air and continued before Evie could launch another complaint. 

“Darth Arkous isn’t far—I can sense him. We have to learn what he and the Selkath are doing and confront him. To have your run of the place you’ll need to shut down the security grid. You have the coordinates, I’ll stay in touch.” 

Lana shut off her comm before Evie could speak. 

“Personally, I like this look. You should keep it.” Kaliyo smirked as her eyes stilled on the bowl-shaped wig. There was a click, a flash, and Kaliyo’s smile widened further to reveal all her teeth as she reviewed the holo on her holocam. Like Evie, Kaliyo was disguised as a tourist, though, much to Evie’s constant irritation, Kaylio’s ensemble was far more put together and practical. 

“Exquisite,” Kaliyo practically squealed with delight at Evie’s discomfiture.

“Delete the holo,” Evie ground out between clenched teeth. She put her hand out palm side up. Kaliyo jerked the holocam away. 

“No. You let us think you were dead for sixth months.” Kaliyo snapped another holo as she spoke. 

“This is hardly the place—“

Kaliyo snapped yet another holo, capturing the essence of Evie’s frustrated appearance. 

“You told Vector about your secret, but not me—You owe me...” The holocam clicked in rapid-fire succession. Kaylio kept her eyes locked onto Evie’s face with blazing defiance. 

Evie’s arm dropped; she wrenched her eyes shut in defeat. The wounds that her disappearance inflicted ran deeper than she thought. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed by it. There would be no dealing with Kaliyo until she exacted her revenge for the slight—it had always been her way. An eye for an eye, or in this case, Evie’s dignity for a holo. 

“Fine, but if any of these wind up on the holonet I won’t hesitate to murder you and your cunning little holocam.” 

“Sounds fair. Now stand still, I want to immortalize this moment forever.” 

 

The coordinates led to an underwater lab on the outskirts of the city. To maintain their cover, they each affected a confused aura, as though they had thought that this was another part of their sightseeing tour. Kaylio continued to snap holos, in part to cement her portrayal of her character, in part to annoy Evie, and in part to record the evidence they found in the lab. They traveled down hallway after hallway. The labs were expansive; each room contained evidence of experiments, littered tools, scattered flimsi, but no test subjects. In all, combined with the oppressive silence that the thick walls created, it evoked a disconcerting picture that set Evie’s nerves on edge. 

“Cheery place. What are the odds that we’ll be murdered here?” Evie murmured more to herself than to Kaliyo. 

“It’s dark, mysterious, has a killer ocean view. No people around to annoy me. If it wasn’t infested with a mad scientist bent on destroying the galaxy, I’d make it my second home.” 

Kaliyo scooted around the edge of a data terminal cautiously, her eyes alert and wary in their search for an ambush. Evie drew her blaster. It caught on the belt loop of her overlarge pants. 

“For Force sake,” She muttered to herself bitterly. 

Behind her, Kaliyo snickered but quickly stifled it with a cough. Evie covered the slip by performing a scan with her bracers for life signs; heat signatures abounded in the corridors ahead of them. Evie flashed her fingers in the sign she and Kaylio created for ‘hostiles’. Kaliyo nodded, reluctantly pocketed the holocam and drew her blaster in response. 

“Are you absolutely sure this is the right place, Lana?” Evie asked dubiously into her comm. 

“I traced the messages to this location; Darth Arkous is somewhere inside. Comm when you’ve located him...I sense something...a potential ally. I don’t know who it is but I think they might be able to help...” Lana’s voice trailed off into silence and the comm went dead. 

Another ally? It all sounded like utter nonsense to her, but the Sith were all alike in their fond admiration for the mystique. If Lana had bothered to ask her, Evie would have advised that the only ally a person could rely upon was one's self. Evie’s misgivings grew exponentially. Lana had proven herself to be an expert pragmatist; smart, calculating. They were more alike than they were different, which meant Evie didn’t fully place her trust in her. Lana’s motivations were known only to Lana.

In the distance, she heard the sounds of muffled footprints; she motioned to Kaliyo and activated her stealth generator. They disappeared into their surroundings right as a patrol of six heavily armed guards strode into the room. She and Kaliyo stood motionless, watching and waiting. The patrol did a quick survey of the room, then moved on and into the adjacent hallway. Evie let out a slow sigh of relief. 

“We’re definitely in the right place, come on, it looks like they came from further below. Stars above, Kaliyo. Will you please put that ridiculous holocam down....” 

 

They met group after group, force users, guards, droids. All fell to the quick flash of Evie’s knives and Kaliyo’s blaster expertise. Still, there was no sign of Darth Arkous. Evie was beginning to lose hope when Lana’s voice crackled over the comm. Her voice was chipper, which was uncharacteristic of the Sith. 

“I’ve met our potential ally, who’s already proved quite resourceful. He’s learned of a prisoner in the security hub who’s been scheduled for disposal by experimentation. The prisoner goes by the name of Jakarro.” 

“We’ll stop and say hello. Who is our mysterious new ally? I can’t say that I’m comfortable forging an alliance with a complete stranger.” Evie interjected before Lana could continue. 

“All will be revealed in due time, Agent Colspur...” Lana buzzed off the comm. Evie gave a small aggravated tug on her wig, which was now squeezing her head so tightly that she had the beginnings of a cluster headache. 

 

What Lana failed to mention was that the prisoner ‘Jakarro’ was not so much a prisoner as he was a Wookie, with the strangest companion strapped to his chest that Evie had ever seen. There was a marked contrast between the pair; battle hungry Jakarro who’s sole purpose seemed to be revenge, and Ceetoo Deefour, a mild-mannered protocol droid, who even though he was a droid and had no visible facial expressions, seemed to flinch each time Jakarro opened his mouth to roar. Though they were an odd pair, they were at the very least, useful. They pointed Evie and Kaliyo to a lab two levels down, where the scientist, a Selkath by the name of Gorima, was purportedly meeting with Darth Arkous. 

Midway down the passageway to the third level, the lighting dimmed into near darkness. Evie and Kaliyo exchanged ominous looks and kept their weapons ready. Evie took point, Kaliyo was hard on her heels. Evie’s comm button blinked; she expected Lana’s soothing tone, but the voice she heard instead brought her feet to a hard stop. 

“Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m here with Lana. She’s meditating...using her connection to Darth Arkous to pinpoint his location.” 

Evie’s ears no longer registered sound—the room became inexplicably hot.  
No, it wasn’t possible. This was another one of her strange dreams, where he was the voice in her head instead of Watcher X. She knew that voice; the pleasant baritone was unmistakable. She might be locked in a room full of strangers, all conversing with her at once, and still, she’d be able to pinpoint the distinct sound. The comforting warmth of the voice belonged to her old friend, and from what she could deduce Lana’s newest ally, Theron Shan. 

Her throat constricted; all she could manage in response was a faint, nearly imperceptible squeak. If Theron heard it, he didn’t comment on it, he continued on without pause. 

“She wanted you to know if I found anything and I did. Energy readings from Gorima’s lab. Rakata technology’s firing up like crazy in there. Don’t know for sure what’s going on but I can pretty much guarantee it’s got to be stopped.” 

His voice disappeared from the comm; it was replaced by a familiar flash and a click. Evie turned slowly to see Kaliyo grinning at her from ear to ear with her holocam pressed up against her face. 

“Sorry, I know you said no more holos but you should see your face...” 

Kaliyo cackled in delight, not knowing that a catastrophic quake of discovery had permanently shifted the ground beneath Evie’s feet. In her six month exile, she wondered often whether Theron was still alive, what adventures he might have gotten himself into, and whether or not he thought of her as frequently as she thought of him. Then, she’d chide herself instantly for being ‘moony’ and ‘cloying’. Her more logical self doubted he’d given her as much thought since their last encounter, particularly since she’d tricked him and gassed him with Coma gas. If he was anything like the rest of her crew, he might not be eager to reconcile. 

Moreover, as she considered it further, he was still a member of the SIS, she still possessed the Black Codex. He might be here because he discovered her secret ruse in the same way that Lana had. Her heart sank low; yes, that seemed like the most likely scenario. It was too much of a coincidence that they would both be in the same location at the same time without one of them having intel about the other. Perhaps, she would be lucky, and he would disappear before the end of her mission. Evie drew breath, and forced herself down a steadily darkening hallway, into the lab of the nefarious Dr. Grima. 

 

The remainder of the mission was a categorical disaster; her mind was a cluttered, unfocused mess. The more Theron’s voice buzzed on the comm, the more distracted she became. He asked her to slice into data terminals; she nearly triggered the alarm sequence. If it hadn’t been for Kaliyo’s quick trigger finger, she would have been cut in half by a force sensitive Selkath. The climax of the ‘complete bungling’ of her mission was their confrontation with Arkous and Darok. She ought to have been the conclusion before it played out. The self-satisfied way they revealed their plans openly with one hand while having their finger pressed to the auto destruct button for the lab with the other. The lights in the building went dark, save for the glow of the red emergency lighting. Slowly, sea water, which reeked sulfurous fumes, seeped from every seem of crevice in every room. Evie sloshed through the steadily deepening water that had risen from scattered puddles to boot deep. Theron comm’d again; he managed to save one of the escape pods. Evie was unable to find her voice to speak any words of gratitude to him, let alone any words at all. Her tongue for the first time in her life was paralyzed with anticipation and fear.

In route to the escape pod, they hit another snag. Theron’s voice broke into her concentration as she ran.

“Getting readings from their alpha cyborg. That thing’s serious—and it’s coming right for you! Stay sharp!” 

Evie lifted her eyes, raised her blaster and charged forward, firing wild shots at the cyborg creature that had sharp knives for hands and agile feet. She rolled and dodged; the armor plating ricocheted her blaster bolts and repelled the sharper ends of her knives. She shot poison darts; the cyborg gave chase, hacking, and slashing. Above them, the laboratory was in a state of collapse. Water rained from the ceiling in steadily increasing amounts. 

“You’re going to have to breathe water if you don’t get moving,” Theron’s voice contained an edge of panic. She used all her strength and slashed up the cyborg’s belly. It roared with anger; overhead the life support system offered the two-minute warning. 

The ceiling above cracked, fresh seawater crashed to the floor, they were waist deep. Electrical fires sparked and vented down into the room, creating a dichotomy of fire and icy water. Evie’s mind gave a small jolt of inspiration. None of their weapons were having an effect on the creature, but there was one element they hadn’t tried. Evie took off through the water at a run, she waded, she sloshed, she didn’t dare to look behind her as the cyborg gave chase. Above her, one of the vents was trembling, about to combust into fiery wreckage. She calculated the trajectory of the vent and dove beneath the water just as the flames burst into the room. She swam with all her might and didn’t surface until she could no longer see the glow of the flames. The cyborg ran head first into the flames, and within moments collapsed into the water, a charred, smoking carcass. 

Her lungs and eyes burned from the polluted water and smoke of the room. Kaliyo pulled her up roughly by the arm. 

“You’re a damn fool. You’re going to kill yourself. You know that right?” Kaliyo chided with a shaky voice that was a mixture of pride and worry. Without warning or preamble, Kaliyo threw her arms around Evie’s neck for what might have been their first and only true act of friendship. Startled by the display, Evie patted Kaliyo absently on the back, then cleared her throat when the emotional display went on a little too long for Evie’s taste. It appeared that for the moment, Kaliyo had temporarily forgiven Evie for her transgressions. 

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Evie ran over to the data terminal to get the coordinates of the closest escape pod. To her surprise, the terminal lit up. The flickering blue outline of Theron Shan appeared before her eyes. She froze; he was too busy entering commands into the console to notice her petrified form. 

“Hang on. Emergency pod’s almost secure but not...quite...” His voice faded into silence. His eyes locked onto hers and grew large. His mouth opened and closed several times and she was afraid, based on the way that he abruptly leaned his hands against his terminal that he might collapse from the shock. From her vantage point, she saw the muscle of his jaw twitching and flexing. 

He opened his mouth to speak; Evie beat him to the punch. For appearance’s sake, until she knew she could trust Lana, it was better for them to be strangers.

“You’re with the Republic...” She managed cooly, without betraying a hint of the turmoil of questions and concerns that plagued her mind. He considered the question, then forced his hands back to the keys of the data terminal. He kept his eyes glued to his work and away from her face. 

“That’s right. You got a problem with that?” The response was cold and betrayed a hint of hostility that was too real to be feigned. 

“No problem. Just get us out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write. Hope it’s not too boring! Thanks for reading :)


	4. The Sparks Burn

She swept back into his life...well that was a bit of a misnomer. She sloshed into the room, leaving a trail of seawater behind her. His body detached itself from his brain; he was temporarily aware of the sound of his pounding heart, the ragged pull and release of air through tight chest muscles. Angry—That’s how he was supposed to feel. He was supposed to be angry with her, and in truth, he was furious with her. Above everything else, the confusion, nausea, the strange resurgence of the grief he fought for sixth months to avoid, he was...relieved. Try as he did to manage it with his implants, he was genuinely happy that she was alive and livid in equal measures. He sighed as his thoughts looped around into another giant, spectacularly messy circle. How was this possible?

He saw her corpse; even Vector thought she succumbed to the arms of death. Yet, she stood before them, her arms clasped behind her back with a faint military bearing, a soggy bedraggled mess, not unlike the night she came to him to ask for his help on Dromund Kaas. Yes, it was absolutely Evie. Beneath the heavy, water-logged make-up that made her look older, his eyes beheld the faint and familiar dusting of freckles. The pink scar that ran like a ring around her throat was pronounced even though he could see she had tried to cover it. To her disguise, she added a diagonal scar that ran from her forehead to her chin, a short haircut that he secretly hoped was a wig, and the strangest assortment of clothes he’d ever seen. He did not believe in ghosts, the verdict was still out about the Force, but this-this was some cruel, ironic twist of fate that called his most cherished beliefs sharply into review. 

Behind her, a tall Rattataki trailed behind Evie with a disaffected air until her eyes landed on him. They locked eyes, and there was a gleam of recognition in her cool grey eyes. What was her name? Kalya, Kira?

“Hey, wait a second. Isn’t that—“ It happened fast; Evie lifted the heel of her boot and without missing a beat mashed down hard on the Rattataki’s foot. She let out a muffled howl of pain, and Evie put her hand on her associate’s back to console her agony. 

“My, my Kaliyo. You ought to be more careful. You almost slipped,” Evie’s voice was low with an icy tone and added emphasis on the word ‘slipped’. The two women held each other’s gaze for several silent seconds before the intent of the coded message was received. 

Lana entered the room, datapad in hand, barely looking up from the steady stream of information. She added notes to the data with precision, then tucked the datapad into her robes. 

“Ah, you made it. I was beginning to worry. That was some of the best fighting I’ve ever seen.” Lana praised Evie warmly. 

“I’ve seen better,” Theron quipped with a voice that was laced with a hint of irritation. 

This ruffled Evie’s feathers; her facial features tightened into a deeply satisfying annoyed grimace. His emotional state had veered off into a new, entirely uncharted dimension: petulant, vindictive, child-like pettiness. He was not proud of the grudge but instead of avoiding the impulse he leaned into it. He was not currently allowed to air his grievances, there were many, with her. While in the presence of Lana, he needed to maintain a polite, professional demeanor. He would, however, make use of the only recourse he had by subtly needling her placid conduct every chance he got.

“Let me introduce you to our new ally. This is Theron Shan. And this...” Lana introduced with a smile; Theron hastened to interrupt. 

“There’s no need for introductions. I know who this is...” He saw Evie’s eyes widen in panic, clearly afraid that he might blow their cover. “This is obviously the galaxy’s leading tourism specialist visiting all the way from Ord Mantell...” 

His eyes scanned her eccentric ensemble with a dubious air as if to say ‘this is your disguise?’ Her panic softened into a rueful half-smile and a little of the gnawing resentment in his chest almost softened with it—almost. The Rattataki smothered a laugh with a cough and lifted her holocam up to her eye. Without missing a beat, Evie pushed the holocamera back down with a frown; Lana let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I told you the disguise is effective. Agent Theron Shan, meet Agent Evibail Colspur, formerly of Imperial Intelligence.” Lana turned to work at a nearby data terminal. 

“Formerly?” The question slipped out of his mouth and into the open silence. Evie gave a vague shake of her head while she stared pointedly at the back of Lana’s head. Ah, right. Lana wasn’t privy to their previous...well, he didn’t know what to call their alliance exactly. Evie hastened to change the subject to cover his obvious blunder. 

“You’re quite mediocre at what you do, Agent Shan, so I think it’s safe to presume that you currently work for the SIS. Have you ever considered working for an actual intelligence entity like the Empire?” 

She snapped back the response to his two previous digs with an arch of one brow and folded her arms smugly across her chest. Oh, she was good. She knew exactly how to inflict a verbal wound; subtle, with a hole just small enough that his pride wouldn’t bleed out entirely and yet large enough of an insult to goad him into a response. 

He cleared his throat, summoned a frown and for the first time since they’re elocution lessons on Corellia managed a perfectly executed ‘tut’, which conveyed that the boundary between them that she was boldly violating left and right was now firmly back in place. It caught her attention—good—but it did not have it’s intended effect. Instead of looking chastised, her face was proud, impressed even by his perfect use of the infamous ‘tut’. Her teeth bit into her lower lip to smother a smile. In response, his treacherous lips trembled upward involuntarily. No, she tricked him once...well, actually it was more than once. He wouldn’t be duped by her charming smile again. 

“Thanks to Theron, we’ve learned from the data that our mysterious foe is a group known as the Revanites...” Lana launched into a long-winded dissertation about the group. Theron listened with deaf ears, catching occasional snippets of the summary. Blood-thirsty group, bent on destroying the galaxy, working with a fallen Jedi named Revan, etc, etc. Geez, Lana liked to hear herself talk. In contrast, Evie, he noted, listened to the speech with rapt attention with her head tilted to the right, something it often did when her mind was focused. 

Tardily, he realized that Lana asked him a question that he wasn’t listening to. Panicking, he said that first thing that came to mind. 

“Yes,” It was a safe response, non-committal. Lana gave a small nod of satisfaction. 

“Excellent, then you, Agent Colspur, and Ms. Djannis will travel to the Revanite safe house, plant bugs, and wait for them to reveal where they intend to strike next.” 

 

It was with some persuasion, and quite a large amount of egging on from Evie, that Lana convinced him that he needed to have a cover for their opp. The name, Tev Fith, was an alias he used once on Tatooine. The ensemble, he refused to call it a disguise, was a collection of pieces chosen by Evie and Lana from various vendors in the garment district. 

“I’m not wearing that,” He told Lana bluntly, as she held up the colorful floral print shirt and a long pair of overly bright white trousers of an over-dressed tourist. He had a hunch that Evie had a hand in choosing the shirt. 

“Personally, I don’t see a difference between the shirt and the jacket you currently have on.” Evie called with a challenging tone over her shoulder, she was in the process of preparing their gear, wrapping and knotting their ropes before putting them into a pair of equally heinous looking carrying cases. 

Theron’s hackles rose; his mind worked over-time to prepare a suitably devastating retort for her dig about his favorite jacket when Lana intervened.

“We’re wasting time. Go and put it on,” Lana chided as she pushed the clothes unceremoniously into his arms. 

When he returned, their gear was packed neatly into its cases. Evie sat perched on top of one, her eyes buried into a datapad. 

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Lana asked breezily when she caught sight of him. Kaliyo burst instantly into a fit of raucous giggles, Evie, in a feat of remarkable self-restraint stayed mute with her lips pressed tightly together to prevent a grin of triumph.

“Agent Colspur and Agent Shan will travel first to place the listening devices. Ms. Djannis will provide back-up from the roof above. Here, these will cement your cover.” Lana opened her palm to reveal two circular bands of indeterminate ore. 

“W-w-what are those?” Evie stammered weakly. 

“Promise rings. Your cover story is that you’re two newly-weds on your honeymoon. Perhaps from Ord Mantell, since that was Theron’s first assumption.” 

Evie’s eyes went wide, then briefly darted to his face before she exhaled a small ‘kriff’ under her breath. 

“Surely that level of detail isn’t necessary, Lana. The Revanites...” Theron started to protest; Lana’s face flexed into a glower as she interjected firmly. 

“...Have predicted every last one of our decisions. If we’re going to uncover their game we’re going to have to work a little harder. However, if you’re not comfortable working with Agent Colspur, I can arrange for Jakarro to fill in...” 

“No, no. That won’t be necessary.” Theron snatched both rings from her palm and jammed them unceremoniously into his pocket. 

“Good, I have a room reserved for you at the Seabreeze Hotel with the perfect view of the fountains and of the Revanite’s lair. We cannot fail—the fate of the galaxy hinges on our success...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it’s not too fluffy and heavy on the trope side of things! Sorry it’s a little on the short side.  
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback, kudos, gripes, or requests are all highly encouraged and appreciated.


	5. The Tacit Apology

The light cast the lingering fog that clung to the sea in purple shadow, conveying an ominous air that Evie thought suited the somber mood. He didn’t speak, refused to look at her, and his face conveyed little emotion save for the tight thin-lipped set of his mouth. This abrupt shift in demeanor occurred the moment Lana was out of sight. For the first time in her life, she was at a loss. Her mind worked in contingencies, planning for almost every scenario imaginable. When she envisioned this particular scene, in truth she thought of it daily during her exile, she never thought that her return would be greeted by taciturn, icy, silence.

She cleared her throat, kept her eyes glued to the horizon and attempted to breach the void. She picked the one topic, she hoped, that would be easiest to start with.

“We ought to spend some time with our recon, learn their habits, count their numbers. The moment they step out, I can sneak in with my stealth belt and set the devices...”

He responded with a lower sounding grunt of agreement which was at least, some progress.

“I might be able to patch you into their system remotely. It’s not ideal but it could allow you to slice their files...”

She left him an opportunity to take a swipe at her slicing skills. He didn’t take it and moreover, didn’t notice the opportunity at all. This was bad; she lapsed into silence to consider her next move. Should she apologize? She considered that path momentarily—no there was nothing to apologize for. She did her job, she saved the galaxy from the clutches of the Star Cabal. Her work as an agent was unimpeachable. Surely, he understood that.

Frustrated by his lack of engagement she tried another more direct avenue.

“Of course, it would be helpful if we were on speaking terms. If we could find a way to work together as a team...” There was a soft note of reproach in her voice.

To her surprise, it was this that finally provoked a response. He unleashed a low mirthless chuckle.

“That would be helpful. Then again, the team seems a little one-sided from where I stand. Do you want to gas me right now and save us both the trouble?”

A surge of heat rushed to her cheeks and her head snapped up in defiance.

“This from the man who hit me with a toxicity dart the day we met,”

“Minutes before I used my dart, you had me pinned to a wall in an alley with your vibroknife to my throat.” He flung his hands up in exasperation and turned away from her.

“If you were in my position, you would have made the exact same choices.“

His settled his hands on his hips and his head dropped to his chest as he shook his head with a mournful air. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, low with monotone and a hint of resignation.

“No, I wouldn’t. Look, Cipher. For the sake of this mission, I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. If it’s in the best interest of the galaxy for us to bury the past, I’m willing to do it. But don’t think for a second that I’m foolish enough to trust you...”

The salt-water breeze swept through the plaza and slapped her cheeks with icy fingers. The wind, she thought, was warmer than his demeanor. His eyes were cold, the affectionate twinkle that she’d grown used to was extinguished.

“You’re not even going to ask me questions?” Evie asked, unable to prevent a note of disappointment from infiltrating the tone.

“Asking you questions would imply that I care about what happened—I don’t. You had your reasons for doing what you did. I’m not interested in knowing them.”

Of all the reunions, this was undoubtedly the worst. Her crew was much more tolerant of her decisions. Even with Lokin, she got the sense after the initial shock had worn off, that he would be able to forgive her. Granted, she was still waiting for him to do so, but she had a sense that it would happen eventually. It was quite possible that her friendship with Theron, which had walked a tenuous line from its inception, was broken beyond repair. Her bargain with the Empire, the damage to her friendship with her crew, all of it was to save his life, and in return, he hated her for it. Was it worth the cost? She was leaning toward ‘no’ until she remembered her mother’s wisdom: there was no good and evil in the universe, there were only a person’s choices, and what that person could live with. He was filled with vitriol and spite, but he was still alive as a result of her sacrifice—it was the choice she could live with. For now, that was enough for her.

*

They walked the streets of Manaan in silence, Evie walked at a brisker pace slightly ahead of Theron, lost in thought. Lana did not bring her to Manaan to argue with him. She reminded herself very sternly that their mission needed to be enough to hold her attention, but her mind was constantly pulled back to their conversation. They were spies; betrayal for the sake of a mission wasn’t so unusual in their line of work. What was it about this that was different in his eyes? After all, he shot her with his toxicity dart the day they met and she didn’t hold that against him...the day they met...They were strangers the day they met. Her mind gave a sharp jerk of realization, and with a blink, she was back on the Star Cabal’s ship.

_Her back was curled up against the ship’s wall, silver rivets dug into her spine. His hand reached down and delicately covered her hand to stop her from pulling her blaster._

_“I—I want to tell you,” Her eyes studied his then drifted from his face to his lips and back to his face again. There was a hairsbreadth of space between them. “But it’s classified...”_

_“It doesn’t have to be....” His voice died away, she tilted her face up to his; the tip of his nose brushed hers. “You told Keeper that you trusted me with your life. Was that the truth?”_

 

She brought her mind back to the present with a new, inescapable theory. The anger he exhibited was quite possibly not from her professional betrayal. No, he tolerated her previous professional betrayals without blinking an eye. This was the frustration of a long-suffering friend, who keenly felt that her withholding the truth betrayed the bedrock of their friendship. Her heart gave an unusual sputter that tardily she recognized as some type of guilt. Apparently, she did owe him an apology, a rather large one in fact. More importantly, she owed him the truth. Oh, he would be unbearably smug about it. 

She turned slowly, and without waiting to see if he was even listening, launched into her apology.

“Theron, I’m sorry for—“

“Cipher I—“

They both appeared to have reached similar conclusions at the same time. Evie bit her lower lip to prevent a smile, to her surprise, she saw that though he fought it with all his might, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips too.

“You go first,” She offered softly.

Evie watched as he dug into his pocket and produced one of the promise rings.

“Here,” He mumbled gruffly, holding up the delicate silver band between finger and thumb.

She studied his face, the features were softer now, and though he tried to disguise it as disinterest, there was a hint of contrition in his eyes. Evie’s eyes drifted between the ring and the rapidly changing expressions that floated across his face. There was a trace of color on his cheeks, or at least she thought there was. It might have been a trick of the light, the glorious kaleidoscope of the colors from the sunset cast the white marble streets of Manaan in brilliant shades of red. 

He closed the ring into the palm of his hand as he reached it hesitantly toward her face. The pad of his thumb, calloused and scarred, traced a soft line from her cheekbone down to her jaw. She leaned into his touch with a low satisfied sigh. Then, she felt a searing pain, a small tug at the skin of her cheek.

“Ouch, what was that for?” She demanded hotly as she clasped her hand to her cheek and took a step away from him. He opened his palm and suppressed a cheeky smile; resting in the center of his hand was the silver ring and her false nose.

“It’s been stuck to the side of your cheek since you came back from the lab. Didn’t think the second nose matched our cover story,”

She snatched it out of his hand and hastily reapplied it to her face to cover up the shame of not having noticed for a good hour that the nose was missing.

“You might have mentioned it sooner.” She chided him crossly, eyeing the ring he offered her again suspiciously as though it too might betray her.

“Oh? So you agree that sharing pertinent intel is important when you’re working with a partner? That’s interesting.”

The goodwill she felt toward him moments before was gone; there would be no apology now.

“A partnership implies trust. You just told me that you weren’t foolish enough to trust me. Which is it? You can’t have it both ways...”

The silence lingered between them and he stumbled over several silent phrases before he let his shoulders drop in defeat. He chose instead to avoid the question entirely and offered her the ring again.

“Just put this on,” He said with a long sigh.

”You’ll have to do better than ‘just put this on.’”

“You’re joking,”

Evie shook her head emphatically, put her hands on her hips, and waited with arched brows and a furiously stubborn expression. It was impetuous and petty but she wanted to see him share a little of her discomfort. 

“You’re seriously going to make me...Fine,” He took a long breath. “Cipher, will you do me the honor of putting on this ring so that we can get this mission underway.”

She shook her head emphatically, smothering a smile while she did. He squirmed uncomfortably, she relished it.

“Don’t make me say it again.” He pleaded with a groan.

“It’s imperative to the success of the mission that you say it again.”

“You’re impossible, you know that right?”

“This will be over as soon as you pluck up your courage.”

“Courage? I’m not afraid.” He scoffed indignantly. His face hardened, he held up the ring in front of her face.

“Evibail Colspur, incidentally, I had no idea that was your real name—it’s a terrible name. What were your parents thinking? Make me the happiest man alive by accepting this ring so that we can get this mission underway. Happy?”

“Try it again, this time without insulting my name.”

He rolled his eyes upward to the sky, then he tried it again. His face grew deadly serious as he drew a shaky breath and studied the ring in his hand. Ever so slowly, he brought his eyes up to hers with an earnest expression she’d never seen before. He shyly reached for her hand; she did not pull it away.

“M-m-marry me, Evie.” He began with a tender voice that shook as he spoke. He opened his mouth to speak again, then swallowed hard and looked like he might be sick. 

“Y-y-you are...”

Evie cut him off before he could continue. The odd sincerity of it, the fluttering nervousness in his voice, was suddenly all too much for her. Her cheeks burned with discomfort.

“Stars, do people actually believe this garbage?” She managed breathlessly as she pulled her hand away from his. She reached for the ring, he pulled his hand away, and for the first time since their reunion, offered her his smuggest smile.

“Who’s the coward now?” He quipped with a challenging lift of one brow. The shaking voice was gone, the earnest, terrified expression melted away to cool, pompous triumph. He’d played her, and she’d fallen for it without a moment’s hesitation.

“Give me the ring, Theron.”

“No, no, Cipher. You’re wanted this to be done properly. I insist you let me put it on.” He clasped the wrist of her outstretched arm with a deft and delicate touch—Evie froze in alarm. In one fluid motion, he slipped the band onto her finger, then, in an act that was intentionally meant to bewilder her, brought her hand just shy of his lips. They lingered ever so slightly above her skin as he murmured no louder than a whisper:

“Careful, we’re being watched.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s fluffy. I regret nothing! 
> 
>  
> 
> PS—Thanks for reading and sticking with the story! It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything and this series is the first time I’ve publicly posted my writing. I was super nervous to post, so if you started reading from the beginning and you’re still here—thank you! It means a lot.


	6. Mr. and Mrs. Tev Fith

The Seabreeze hotel was an elegant building with swooping architectural lines that was surrounded by whispering fountains in the middle of a quiet courtyard. The facade was decorated in glittering glass windows at every vantage point so that it reflected the light with a radiant hue of white. It hugged the sea wall so closely that when the waves came crashing into the wall, the collision would cover the building with an enchanting salty mist. In any other circumstance, the setting would have been inspiring, romantic even depending on the company. He jerked his head back in silent repulsion. Romantic setting? Pfft. Of all the places he’d traveled to in the galaxy that particular thought never crossed his mind once—until today. What was wrong with him? His eyes darted to the woman who walked a few paces ahead of him with a growing sense of dread that he already knew the answer. 

His partner was completely oblivious to his growing trepidation and glorious scenery. She was thoroughly absorbed in her work. Her mind was working overtime to scan the Revanite safe house and keep close tabs on their silent observers, of which, he counted there were at least three. To make her actions less suspicious, she adopted the gaze of a wide-eyed tourist who was not used to the luxurious grandeur of a well-appointed city. Excitedly, she pointed out fountains to him, ran her hands along the stone parapets and statues that adorned the courtyard. 

He lingered at a distance, his shoulder buried into a wall, his arms folded at his chest to absorb the performance while a soft admiring smile curled his lips. She certainly had style. He supposed he ought to commit to his cover at the same intensity that she did, only for the sake of the mission, of course. He gave an exaggerated check of his bracers as though he was checking his timepiece in reaction to his wife’s delays and ran a quick scan. There was some sort of frequency jammer that was interfering with his scans of the Revanite’s safe house...His wife? His heart twisted in his chest at how naturally the thought entered his mind. No—he was being ridiculous. He told himself that this was his natural reaction; that he was just happy to see her alive again. There wasn’t more to it than that...oh who was he kidding? 

The battle was lost before it began. He tried to maintain a boundary between them. He put up blockade, after blast door, after shield generator and still he was unable to resist her charm. He didn’t even last an hour. She subtly caught his eye from across the courtyard and lifted her index finger upward. He frowned and followed where she was directing her gaze. Of course, there was a signal jammer in the corner of the roof on top of the Revanite compound. He nodded to indicate that he saw it with an impressed grin. Five minutes in the area and she’d probably done the bulk of their recon work in two. Before they could plant the listening devices, the jammer would have to be the first thing they dealt with, though accessing the roof would be tricky. He was about to ask for her ideas on the subject when he realized that she disappeared. 

She retreated to the sea wall, her head tilted to the right in the way that it did when she was listening or acutely curious. This was not to gain recon—she was admiring the view and the scarlet trail of light that bled from the last rays of the sun. Even she was not immune to Manaan’s natural wonders. She leaned her forearms against the wall, and let out a small gasp of delight when a burst of surf breached the wall. It was only the second time in their acquaintance when he’d seen her react in such an unguarded way. It was pure, innocent in its unadulterated joy. 

He approached cautiously, his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes drinking in the sights. The evening air was quiet, their observers had long since found other more interesting targets. In short, the night was peaceful. He settled himself beside her, with his hands perched on the wall, his eyes fixed on the changing colors of the water. 

“I see now why Karus wanted to retire here,” She said quietly with a note of regret in her voice. “It’s lovely.”

He felt a twinge of remorse that their mutual friend and murdered informant hadn’t lived to enjoy a sunset like this. 

“They say you pick the place to retire that best matches your personality. This place certainly has Karus’ flair for the dramatic.” 

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he felt a curious pair of eyes on his back. He turned and caught sight of a lone watcher, keeping a steady eye on them from the distance. He told himself that this was why he did it. He told himself that his actions were not a result of a glorious sunset, or the woman beside him but more a practical way to maintain their cover. With an exaggerated stretch of his arms above his head, he feigned a yawn and wrapped one arm around her shoulder. 

Her lightning fast reflexes reacted before his arm touched her shoulder. Her hand gripped his forearm and before he could stop her, his arm was twisted painfully behind his back, his cheek pressed against the cool, moist stone wall. 

“Ow! What the hell, Evie?“ He wheezed in pain. “It’s part of the cover,”

His arm muscles strained at the socket and he was worried she might rip it out. He supposed he was lucky that she didn’t pull her vibroknife on him. Evie released his arm with a dazed blink. 

“Sorry. Old habits.” She mumbled with a mortified expression and a voice that was rattled. 

She released his arm; he judiciously rubbed his sore shoulder with a glowering look at her. It was rare when her voice was anything but composed. She cast a quick glance around them. Her lapse went unnoticed; the tourists were distracted by the last dip of the sun beneath the surf line and expressed their admiration with a flurry of ‘oohs’ and ’ahhhs’. 

In hindsight, he knew he deserved it. He shouldn’t have been taking those types of risks with her in the first place; she quickly and painfully put him in his place. He shot a nervous look to their remaining watcher; the shadowy presence was gone. 

He lifted his eyebrows at her and waited for an explanation while he continued to rub feeling back into his limb. How did she manage to both make it ache and lose feeling at the same time? She stared at the sea again in stunned silence; clearly, her action was as much of a surprise to herself as it was to him. He thought that this would be another one of her unexplained mysterious quirks and was prepared to let his questions go unanswered when, not for the first time that day, she surprised him. She didn’t look at him; her voice was distant and low as she spoke. 

“Cover or not you should probably know that I don’t like situations like that.” 

“Situations like what—affection?” He quipped sardonically, then immediately regretted it. 

She offered him a wan smile and folded her hands. He noted that she clutched her fingers until her knuckles were white from her grasp. 

“I was attacked once by an overly amorous Black Sun gang member. He followed and attacked me while my back was turned. If it hadn’t been for Kaliyo, I wouldn’t be here today...” 

His mind jumped back to the day they met. Oh no...he put his blaster to the back of her head and surprised her in an alley. No wonder she pulled her vibroknife on him. 

“I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be—it turned out worse for him. Shall we continue?” She motioned toward the door of the hotel that was crested in glittering gold and gaudy marble pillars. 

It was over before it began; a moment of wretched awfulness and physical pain, followed by a brief opening of a window into her life, a smaller clue to a larger puzzle that allowed him context. He was baffled again; it was unlike her to so freely share a confidence with him. Ordinarily, the details of her life were need to know, and he usually didn’t need to know. He was unsure about what to do with the confidence except that he was strangely grateful for it. It did present a challenge; they were supposed to be portraying a newly married couple after all. Their cover would be blown if she kept attacking him every time he made his advances. Then, the solution came to him. 

“Why don’t you take the lead on maintaining our cover?” He suggested gently. “I’ll play along with anything you decide that you’re comfortable with.” 

“Anything?” She arched a single brow at him dangerously. 

“Not, uhhh...well, I mean to say...uhhh..” 

Evie snorted at his discomfiture. She was running circles around him again; he was struggling to complete sentences that didn’t make him sound like an inarticulate toddler. With a teasing smile, she gently tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. 

“Relax Theron, it’s a joke.” 

He unleashed a shaky laugh; she gave his arm a tug, and drug him across the courtyard to the door of the hotel. 

The door slid open to reveal the heavy aroma of incense. An older looking Selkath woman glanced up from behind a large marble desk, inlaid with rich dark wood. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Tev. Fith checking in,” Evie’s crisp Imperial accent was gone. 

It was replaced with an accent that must have come directly from a personal experience she had with a farmer on Ord Mantell, down the lingering drawl. Theron fought a smile; the woman he knew was gone. Mrs. Fith walked with a slouch, spoke with a flighty, wispy sort of voice, and peered at the world through a thick set of bangs. 

“Ah yes, the newlyweds, all the way from Ord Mantell. You must be exhausted after your journey. Come, drop your luggage. We have tea and other refreshments...” 

“Actually, we were hoping to tour our room first, admire the view.” 

He summoned what little bravado he could muster. Tev Fith he decided, was a confidence man, all talk and little action, with a smarmy sort of charm. He managed a drawl similar to Evie’s and was even proud of his work until he noticed her barely perceptible flinches at every word he spoke. In her mind his accent was wrong and he would get a detailed lesson later on how to correct his deplorable pronunciation. 

“I hope I’m not being too forward but I noticed that the two of you seemed to be having a tiff by the sea wall. Is everything all right?” The Selkath shot Theron a dubious expression. 

“Oh yes that...”

Evie’s expression darkened momentarily, she exchanged one meaningful look with Theron, then she lapsed into thought. It was odd that the Selkath mentioned the scene, from her look to him, Evie had noticed it too. The lobby windows did not face the sea wall; his mind jumped to their shadowy watcher, then dismissed it—they were being paranoid. 

“My husband,” Evie shot him an adoring look through her bangs. “Was a little too...enthusiastic....carrying me over the threshold the first time.” 

The innuendo hung awkwardly in the air. He hoped she might stop with that, but apparently, Evie decided that Mrs. Fith was the type to overshare their private life. 

“If we don’t stretch out his back he might not be able to...take in all the ‘sights’ with me later. What you saw was one of those stretches...” 

The delivery was coy, the insinuation was enough to make the overly solicitous clerk take a step back. The heat of embarrassment climbed up his neck from the collar of his egregiously hideous shirt all the way up to his scalp. Evie’s eyes scanned his face, drank in his obvious squeamishness and a slow triumphant gleam glittered in her eyes. Was she...? Yes, she was doing it on purpose. Well, two could play at the game. He shot Evie a quick warning look, then with as debonair a look as he could muster, slipped his arm around her waist. She let out a muffled sort of gasp, which was quickly covered with a simpering giggle. He curled her into the crook of his arm and held her close. He dropped his voice an octave, brought his lips just shy of her ear while he spoke. 

“Come on, Meaava. We don’t want waste all our energy talking, we’re going to need it tonight...” 

She shivered in response; her cheeks went red, and her expression was frozen in a befuddled sort of smile. His heart crowed with triumph; point to Theron. Except, his plan for retaliation backfired in an unexpected way. It started with the observation of how natural it felt to curl her into his arm. Then, his mind drifted to the gentle swell of her hip beneath his palm. His mind started to lapse into dangerous territory before he pulled it back from the brink. Stars, where was his mind? This was Evie he was thinking about. He was supposed to be furious with her for betraying him not...whatever this was. His discomfort grew ten-fold. 

“Ah, young love. You’re so like my husband and me when we were your age, may he Rest In Peace. I’ll bring up some Blossom Wine for you to celebrate with a little later.” 

The Selkath favored Theron with a knowing smile that only made him want to jump out of his own skin as she handed him the room key. He was already uneasy in Evie’s presence; the flirtatious looks, small space and promise of wine later didn’t help with that. 

The moment they turned the corner and into the next corridor, they both rounded on each other. He released his arm from around her waist; it felt like he had lost a third appendage. 

“Take in the sights?” Theron exclaimed in a low whisper of disbelief. “If she wasn’t suspicious before she will be now.” 

“A good cover is in the details. She won’t want to bother the Fiths for the rest of the opp. They’ll be otherwise too occupied with each other to answer the door. Cameras...” She quietly muttered as she subtly pointed out the holocams that stood in watch over the hall. She shifted closer to him and pretended to adjust the collar of his shirt. With her blocking the view, Theron quietly tapped into the feed using his bracers and disabled it. 

They continued to walk down the hall, each lost in their own thoughts. She stopped in front of a dark door with the number 137 affixed to the front with bronze numbers. She lifted the keycard to swipe it. The door slid open to reveal a small room, with a cabinet for clothing, a small writing desk, and a bed that occupied the entire rest of the space. His eyes avoided the bed at all costs, he fixed them instead on the two large windows that bathed the room in the last violet rays of the sunset. They did a cursory sweep for the room, he ran scans for bugs, she did a visual inspection of every crevice to look for holocams and other devices. 

“It’s clean,” He called over his shoulder.

Evie was already hard at work, pulling out the contents of her crate. She brought all the toys: ropes, two sets of macrobinoculars, listening devices, and two fresh datapads. The tension in her shoulders dropped, a smile crossed her lips and she let out a small sigh of satisfaction. He knew the look; her organizational ceremony was about to commence. In fact, he’d seen it so often, and been so intrigued by it that he probably could imitate it perfectly. She started with the ropes, tying each one with sturdy figure-eight loops. 

Theron used the not unpleasant silence to pull up the intel that Lana had sent with them about the Revanite’s movements. 

“Who’s Meaava?” Evie asked quietly after a few minutes passed. “It’s too unusual of a name to be made up that quickly.” 

He looked up from his datapad and prepared himself to rebuke her again for teasing, except the question was genuine. Instead of a sly smile he found a curious pair of eyes. In fact, unlike the tone of their earlier encounters, this question was almost conversational, as though they were two friends who were reacquainting themselves after a long absence. As a matter of fact, that’s what they should have been if he hadn’t been doing everything in his power to keep his distance from her at all costs. 

“Why do you ask?” He asked with narrow, suspicious eyes. 

“Idle curiousity.” She spoke quickly—a little too quickly. He flagged it as suspect. “Of course, if you’d like for us to sit in absolute silence for the remainder of the opp, I’m happy to oblige.” 

He hesitated; explaining Meeava’s significance in his life during her six-month disappearance opened up a host of other uncomfortable questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. If he was honest about Meeava, he would have to explain a little of the grief he felt at her loss, which made him feel, given that she was standing in the room with him, foolish for having taken the death so hard in the first place. She did, however, have a point. Fate possessed a wicked enough sense of humor to cross their paths; there was no sense in keeping her entirely at arm's length. Besides, of all the things he missed during her disappearance, her quick wit, her skill as an agent, it was the absence of their easy camaraderie that hit him the hardest. A rapport, that despite his best efforts to prevent it, they quickly rekindled with minimal effort. To save face, he painted an embellished portrait of Meeava with very liberal brush strokes. 

“Meaava is an analyst for the SIS, specializes in translation and code breaking. Smart woman—you’d like her, I think. She’s very...capable...” 

In truth, her work was mediocre, her translations were typically riddled with grammatical errors, and she was as about as interesting as a Nerf. At the words ‘smart,’ and ‘capable’, she flinched. Was she reacting to the words or to some unknown thought process? 

“We went out a few times for drinks, had a good time and a few laughs.”

He let this sentence dangle. Her hands stilled on the last knot in her rope and he did not imagine the last pained wince. Strange, what was causing her discomfort? 

Evie set aside the rope and grabbed the closest set of macrobinoculars. She curled herself into the window’s ledge closest to the wall so that she could not be seen from the street. 

“I’m happy for you.” She called over her shoulder as she adjusted the lenses. “You deserve to be happy...”

This hit him like a blaster bolt in the gut. It was so calm, so accepting, and...genuine in her desire to see him happy. This was all an act, wasn’t it? There had to be an angle. Unless...six months was a long time. Perhaps something had occurred during her disappearance to thaw the glacially thick Imperial ice she typically surrounded herself with. 

He scrambled to change the subject. 

“You got any food in your case? I forgot to pack mine.” He wasn’t particularly hungry; he needed to buy himself time to think of ways to keep his distance. 

“What do I look like?” 

“Honest answer: you look a little ridiculous with that disguise...” 

“Ration bars are in the small pouch on the right. Your options are protein, or fruit.” 

She leaned forward and adjusted the macrobinoculars again. 

“So far, I count five, maybe six—all heavily armed—they just went inside the building.” 

She made note of it on her datapad. When she was finished, her fingers tugged at her scalp until, with a small snap, the black bowl cut slid away, revealing a precisely woven crown of red braids. She gave a small sigh of relief and tossed the offending wig onto the bed with abandon. Next, her fingers made quick work of the pins that were holding the braids in place. 

His mission to find the ration bars was quickly forgotten. His mind ran amuck with questions. He wondered if he should offer to help her find all the pins then immediately dismissed the terrible idea for what it was. He wondered whether her hair was soft or coarse to the touch, and where the color came from. He tore his eyes away guiltily as the last of hair came free around her shoulders. He focused on deciding between ration bar flavors and not on the resurgence of desires that continued to bubble back to the surface. 

“So...sixth months is a long time...not that I was counting.” He decided on fruit. He held up two bars to her. She pointed to the second fruit bar and he passed it to her with a toss. 

“Is that a question?” She asked as she carefully tore around the wrapper. “I thought you didn’t care enough to ask me questions.” 

She kept her voice light, though hearing his own words archly thrown back at him felt more like a searing indictment from her than he thought it would. 

“It wasn’t a question. It was an observation—the rules are different.” 

“One of these days, I’d like to have a look at this rule book of yours. The semantics sound exhausting.” 

“Fine, it was a question.” 

“Why stop there? Why not ask five?” She teased in reference to the game they would play together to pass the time which was born of his secret desire to gather intel about her. 

“If you’ll allow it.” 

“No restrictions I assume, I’m not allowed to redact?”

“Naturally.”

“And you’ll answer five as well?” 

“If you’d like me too.” 

“Very well, you go first.” 

Ordinarily, the game would have been met with some resistance on her part. That she agreed to willingly play signaled yet another shift from her former behavior. She positioned herself again in such a way that she could observe the Revanites with her macrobinoculars but also engage in their conversation. His mind was ablaze with questions; he knew better than to start with the obvious one from experience. 

“What’s with the disguise, Cipher?” He asked as he bit into his fruit ration and winced at the taste. How did it manage to taste both sour and cloyingly sweet at the same time? 

“Lana’s idea. She had it on good authority that there were some SIS agents sulking about. She thought it might cast a damper on our plans if they discovered I was alive. Then again, I suppose the SIS agent she was referring to was you...” He lifted his fruit bar to her in silent salute, she returned the gesture. 

“How did you find out about Manaan?” She took a bite of her bar; her lip curled in disgust. 

“Darok’s not overly bright. He didn’t encrypt his messages to Arkous. It was almost like he wanted to get caught.” 

They lapsed into uneasy silence. There it was, his opportunity to strike. There was no retreating from it. 

“H-how are you here?” He managed in a quiet voice. “You look remarkable healthy for a dead woman...” 

“Standard interrogation procedure says that you ought to have asked me one more impersonal question before asking the question you want the answer to.” She chided gently. 

“True. Favorite non-fruit flavored ration bar meal?” 

“Vesti noodles.” 

“Fascinating.” 

He added Vesti noodles to his small list of facts that he knew about her, then reminded himself that she was not the reason that he was here. He picked up the second set of macrobinoculars from off of the bed and settled himself against the same window frame opposite her to scan the street. 

“If I’m going to answer your previous question, you’ll need to hear a confession first...” She hesitated; for a moment he thought she might reconsider her decision to trust him. 

“When I was nine...” There was an abrupt rap against the door. Evie’s brows drew down into a frown and she put her finger to her lips. He was on his feet in an instant, his blaster pulled into his hand as he crept over to the door. Evie was hard on his heels, the hilt of a blade clasped in her hand. 

“Yes? Who is it?” He called through the door. 

“Mr. Fith, I have some lovely Blossom Wine here for you and some other treats compliments of the hotel. I’ll leave them on the desk in your room if you’d like...” The voice called through the door. It was the over solicitous clerk from the front desk. 

“Just a minute,” He called through the door.

They sprang into action, each of them making a frantic pass to collect their equipment and stash it out of sight. 

“Blossom Wine? I told you that you overdid it with the cover story.” Theron hissed as he picked up her wig and tossed it toward her. It hit her square in the face. She pulled it away with a sputter and frantically worked to plait her hair. She hastily pulled it on her head with a wince and reattached the nose. He did one last sweep of the room; no equipment in sight. He gave a satisfied nod and was about to answer the door when he was jerked backward by the collar. 

Evie’s hands attacked him everywhere all at once. The clasps of his shirt fell victim to her nimble fingers first. He stood, stunned into stasis as one by one the clasps flew open down to his navel. He lost all sense of time and purpose. Mission? What mission? 

“What are you doing?” He croaked with a voice that was hardly above a whisper. 

“Trust me,” She pointed to the promise ring on her left hand. 

Oh, right, the cover story. They were supposed to be newlyweds on their honeymoon. He felt a small surge of disappointment. What did he expect? She was exceptionally detail oriented and dedicated to her craft. Their cover needed to look real—then it hit him right as her fingers tangled through the edges of his hair at the top of his head— he desperately wanted it to be real. Her hands swept through his hair, pulling it into sections that were then artfully rearranged in separate directions. She scrutinized it, gave a satisfied nod, then her hands dropped to his holster belt. The temperature of the room fluctuated between hot and cold. 

“Uhhhhh....” He said with a pointed stare at the hands that were currently struggling with the clasp. Amongst the surge of emotions, some of which he wasn’t ready to deal with at the present, the strongest of which was panic. 

“Evie, I think she’ll get the message...Can I let her in? ”

Evie, whose eyes had been solely focused on the task of maintaining their cover, blinked like a sleepwalker. They lingered over the now completely open shirt, the tousled hair, and then to her hands which were resting on the buckle of his holster as though that was the most natural of places for them to be. She lifted her hands away from the holster as though it burned her, with her cheeks glowing pink. 

“Well, you did say you’d let me take the lead on our cover...” Her voice was husky and low. 

“Where exactly were you leading, Cipher?” 

There was a beat, her sly half-smile tilted her lips as she gave him the most pulse-inducing look he’d ever received from any woman in his acquaintance. 

“I guess we’ll never know.” She threw over her shoulder with a grin. “Are you going to answer that?”


	7. Interrupted Confessions

There had always been a playful spirit of rivalry between them that, upon reflection, started the day they met. He shot her with a dart, she gassed him with coma gas. He would bandy about a sarcastic phrase about her slicing abilities, she’d deliver an equally crushing blow about his fashion choices. This was their way, a friendship built on a steady incline of challenging each other’s wits. 

Today was no exception; it started with his phony marriage proposal, a brilliant performance from him, which then led to her intentionally making him uncomfortable with the hotel clerk, and it culminated with her nearly sending him to the door in naught but his kit. It was the latter that sent her scrambling to hide in the fresher with her cheeks burning and her mind reeling. Mother of moons! What had gotten into her? She knew exactly what had gotten into her. It was the same rash decisions that had gotten her into this mess in the first place, the impulsivity that had plagued her from the moment they met on Dromund Kaas. 

In the Imperial Academy, one of the first lessons she learned was that there would come a time when, despite her years of training, the heart-wrenching sacrifices, the physical and metaphorical scars, that she would at some point be tempted by the intangible desire for a normal life. She’d managed, for almost twenty years to avoid it at all costs. Yet, somewhere around her seventh year as an operative, she felt the pull for companionship. She was desirous of friendship; she gained a crew of five to fill the void. For a time, it seemed like it was enough—then she met Theron. For six interminable months, she mulled her decision to sign her life away to the Empire on his behalf. At month three, she’d persuaded herself that it was a rare, altruistic decision. By month five, she’d narrowed her choice down to two possible motivations:

1.) Despite a decade of evidence to the contrary, she was the noble self-sacrificing type after all (unlikely) OR 

2.) It stemmed from a secret ache for what he represented: an ordinary life—or at least, as ordinary of a life as a spy could muster. A life that contained a friendship with a person with whom she shared a genuine, deeply felt connection.

Connection? Bah. Ordinary life? Absolute twaddle. She deserved none of those opulent comforts. She leaned down into the sink and splashed cool water on her face in an effort to shock some old fashioned Imperial decorum back into her addlepated mind.

Outside the door, she heard scattered remanents of Theron’s deceptively cheerful conversation with the clerk. 

“Come in, set it right over here.” He boomed in a voice that was much louder than his own. 

She smirked; the accent was terrible. Anyone who had ever traveled to Ord Mantell could tell him that. She reserved the opportunity to needle him about it for later, smiling in anticipation at how much it would irritate him. She took care with her appearance to make it seem like she was just stepping out of the fresher. She wet the hair of her wig, which made its shape even more unflattering than it already was, pinked her cheeks with her fingers, rolled up her sleeves and splashed more drops of bracing water on her face.

The moment her foot stepped over the threshold of the fresher, the onslaught of his campaign against her began. 

“Ah, there she is—the star shine of my existence.” He drawled with exaggerated love-sick admiration. 

He clutched his hands against his chest as though the mere act of her walking into the room would steal his heart away. It was a trifle heavy-handed on his part, but he earned a point for delivery; advantage to Theron. Her teeth bit hard into the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing. The skin around his eyes crinkled with mischief; he held her gaze then favored her with an almost imperceptible wink. 

She gathered herself up to her full minuscule height in response, then went on the offensive with her next attack. With a sinister gleam, she lobbed her verbal grenade with a pouty expression and pretended as though she didn’t see the clerk in the room. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Selkath had quickened her pace in setting up the table. 

“The fresher water went cold, you promised you’d keep me warm.” 

The blood drained from his face, the tips of his ears went red, his jaw swung open on its hinge in disbelief. She sauntered over to him with a vainglorious preen and a triumphant gleam radiating from every fiber of her body. Let’s see him topple that! 

She closed the space between them; his eyes followed her movements, his expression was distracted. She tilted her head back and savored her well-earned victory. With a wry smile, she tapped her pointer finger to his chin affectionately, slid it down to the square edge of his jaw and gently pushed his mouth shut. He wheezed to himself quietly to cover up a laugh at the extent of her depravity—point to Evie.

In hindsight, she might not have led with such an extreme attack, oh, but the look on his face was worth it. He cocked his head to one side, to both consider his opponent and his next move. She saw the wheels of his mind working quickly behind the twinkling gleam in his eyes. Certain that she won the game, she turned to acknowledge the clerk’s presence; he launched his counterstrike. 

It was a last ditch effort, a final desperate parry of his wits to gain purchase and come out on top. In short, she had his back against the proverbial wall— it was his only move. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he telegraphed his presence so as not to startle her. He led with his fingertips first, brushing a curved line from to crest of her shoulder down to the shoulder blade to the small of her back. Evie’s mind skidded to an abrupt halt; she didn’t fight the advance. The room faded away; their mission, the clerk, nothing else mattered except the warmth of his hands as they slid across her abdomen. His arms enveloped her. He lowered his head to where the curve of her neck met her collar bone and unleashed a shuddering warm breath against her skin.

“I guess I’ll have to come up with other ways to keep you warm.” 

Whether it was the accidental feather-light brush of his lips against her neck as he spoke or the sultry cadence of the words that broke her composure she didn’t know. Her eyes drifted shut in complete and total surrender—game point: Theron. Her arm drifted back of its own accord and caressed the hair at the nape of his neck; he pulled her closer against his chest. She made one last ditch effort to appeal to her rational mind and ground her thundering heart into reality. This was all part of their cover and his attempts to win the quiet Cold War between them. She was Meeava Fith, responding to the advances of her husband, Tev Fith, in order to persuade a persistent clerk...oh what was the use? What use was logic when his clever fingers traced a quizzical, exploratory line around the scar that adorned her neck, almost as though he were satisfying an unspoken question. There was no logic left in her trembling body, the unmitigated desire that had remained hidden beneath the surface awakened and flowed like lava. 

There was a polite cough to their left. Evie’s eyes fluttered open and rested upon the startled gaze of the long forgotten clerk who looked uncomfortable at their display of affection. 

“Tev, darling, you’re incorrigible. You didn’t tell me we had a guest...” 

Reality returned like a crashing gelid wave. She pulled herself reluctantly away from his arms; the room was chilly without the radiant heat from his body behind hers. She turned to face him expecting to see the familiar merry twinkle, a smug triumphant grin lighting his features over his easy victory in their game. To her surprise, his face was pensive, his mouth had a solemn set; it was his eyes that drew her attention. The rich olive flecked eyes conveyed tenderness, the lines around them were flexed with pained longing and desire. He was a consummate actor; in that brief moment, she foolishly believed that it was Theron Shan and not Tev Fith who gazed at her with cathexis burning in his eyes. 

An epiphany sliced through the heavy fog in her mind; her knees buckled, her heart set off at a breakneck pace again, while from her mouth a soft ‘oh no’ escaped her lips as she stumbled upon a startling conclusion. There was a third possible reason that she chose to sign her life away on his behalf; the deeply felt connection that she thought until this moment was friendship, was more akin to love. It wasn’t fully realized yet, but it tipped in that direction for her the day they reunited on Corellia and gained strength ever since. 

The timing of this inconvenient discovery was terrible. He loathed her for her betrayal, nothing could undo her decision. Her cheeks exploded into flames, she turned abruptly, unable to bear the scorch of his gaze or her thoughts any longer. She stumbled away, needing to put as much physical distance between them as she possibly could. She strayed over toward the clerk and observed the work with her mind hopelessly adrift. 

The Selkath was laying out a sampling of delicious sweets, fruits, a few pieces of cheese and poured out two glasses of wine. That’s when she saw it, the furtive glances around the room, the peculiar angle of the way that she poured the wine. Their uninvited guest was searching for something; Evie scrutinized the motion attentively and followed her eyes to the bed, which remained as pristine and preserved as it had the moment they entered the room. 

“Will there be anything else?” The Selkath asked with a slow smile. Evie and Theron shook their heads and the Selkath made a hasty exit. Evie followed her retreat to the door and put her ear to it to ensure that they were alone. An awkward silence lingered over the room like a heavy cloud. 

“Star shine of my existence?” She made an attempt at levity to clear the air while she punched in commands into her bracers in an effort to distract herself. 

“Thought you might like that.” He grinned from ear to ear. 

“Cipher Nine to Kaliyo, come in.” She murmured gently into her comm. Kaliyo’s cross countenance flickered into view. 

“Took you long enough. I’m freezing my choobies off up here on the roof while you two are living in the lap of luxury.” Kaliyo’s chattering teeth rattled through the comm channel. 

“I need a favor.” 

“Does it have to do with Agent Tight Pants? Don’t pretend like that wasn’t part of the reason you had your comm off.”

“It’s not like that Kaliyo.” 

“Right....and that’s why you couldn’t take your eyes off of him earlier. You always did like the smart ones.” 

Evie’s eyes shot nervously over to Theron. He was re-buttoning his shirt and hovering over the cheese plate with a hungry look. Though he affected a distracted air, she had the distinct impression that he was hanging on their every word. 

“I may have a solution for your frozen choobies,” Evie replied drily; she thought she saw Theron smirk at her response. Yes, he definitely overheard Kaliyo. “I need you to keep an eye on someone. The owner of this hotel seems suspiciously interested in our movements. Go sit in the lobby and take tea if you’d like. Keep me updated if she goes on the move...” Kaliyo’s comm buzzed into silence. 

“Agent Tight Pants? Huh, that’s a new one.” Theron remarked glibly as he popped a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

Evie stooped to retrieve their case of gear when she saw Theron pick up one of the glasses of Blossom Wine. 

“No!” She shouted as he slowly brought the wine up to his lips for a sip. 

She leaped across the room and slapped the glass out of his hand. The liquid erupted like a geyser with the bulk of it landing on Theron’s shirt. His facial features flattened in irritation. 

“Why?” He demanded between clenched teeth. 

“Did you not think to check if it was poisoned?” 

She hurried back to her case and pulled out a small collection of bottles. From the group, she retrieved a small vial of blue liquid and poured it delicately into the remaining glass of wine. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re obnoxiously guarded and paranoid?” 

The rebuke smarted; in truth, she’d been told that most recently by the entirety of her crew and her own mother. Somehow, the wound seeped more when he said it. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the propensity for rushing into things headlong without first thinking through the consequences? It’s amazing that you haven’t gotten yourself killed.” She shot back gruffly; to her surprise, he smiled. 

“That’s a fair assessment.” 

“This traces 354 different types of poison. If the wine is poisoned, the liquid will turn orange in response.” 

“You carry this with you wherever you go?” He asked skeptically. 

“You don’t?” She countered with a soft ‘tut’ in response. 

His lips parted with what promised to be another smart rebuke but Evie folded her arms triumphantly across her chest and motioned to the glass. The glass radiated a violent orange hue and fizzled up to the rim. Theron turned to her with his mouth dropped open for the second time in the space of an hour. He picked up the glass and lifted it up to the light with a worried frown. 

“How did you know?” 

“I learned to pour wine for nobles at the age of seven; no one with service experience pours wine the way she did. She’s not who she is pretending to be. We should be wary.” 

“And here I thought you just wanted another excuse to get my shirt off,” He teased with a small grin. 

“I just saved your life. Do you really want me to reconsider my decision?”

“No, I know better than to double cross you. Your knowledge of poisons is terrifying.” He teased with a faint smile that quickly sobered. He hesitated, his gaze dropped to the floor. 

“I’m sorry for what happened earlier...I uh...might have gotten a little carried away...When someone offers me a challenge, I don’t back down. Sometimes I can get too competitive...” He admitted with a bashful apologetic grin. 

“I noticed. You’re quite the actor.” She forced her mind not to think about the way she still felt the brush of his lips lingering on her skin. 

“Truce?” 

“Truce.” 

“And since I’m on a roll and already groveling, for the record, I’m glad you came back.” 

He stuck out his hand to her as he had on the day they agreed to join forces for the first time. The memory brought a steadily increasing smile to her face. She clapped her hand to his, wrapped her fingers around and gave them a gentle squeeze. 

“Friends again?” He murmured low, with a hint of hopefulness in his voice. 

She leaned toward him, caught his eye, and whispered: 

“Always”. 

 

They were each perched in a window sill, their macrobinoculars to their eyes. The platter of now half devoured cheese and sweet treats sat between them. The Revanite safe house was quiet and the windows were devoid of light. 

“Am I really so obnoxiously guarded?” She asked thoughtfully after the lingering silence had afforded her too much time to review the previous hour’s on-goings.

“It’s easier to get past the security at the Sith Citadel.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

When he saw her disappointment, his face softened. 

“Why do you care what I think? Sure, you play things close to the chest. In our line of work, it’s difficult not to. Don’t listen to me; I’m the idiot that almost died drinking poisoned wine without giving it a second thought. My opinion doesn’t matter.” 

“It does matter. And in truth, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that criticism recently.” 

The air grew still, he was listening attentively but kept his macrobinoculars up. 

“In your defense, Kaliyo seems to have some very hard opinions about everything—the cold, choobies, my pants...” He quipped to lighten the mood. 

Evie suppressed a small grin. The tightness in her chest loosened as they eased into a more relaxed conversation. 

“You don’t seem to have that problem.” She observed quietly as she popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and savored it. “You’re usually easier to read than a holonovel.” 

“Master Zho used to say that I was as subtle as a Corellian freighter when I found something that I liked. You’re not the first person to see it, or exploit it.” 

Her head dropped to her chest with a rueful smile at his gentle rebuke. 

“It wasn’t an easy choice to make.” She admitted slowly, this was her opportunity to come clean and still, she hesitated. 

There was a painful internal struggle, with her reserve clinging to the words with a vice-like grip. 

“I’ll understand if you never tell me why, Evie...” Theron offered softly as he lowered the macrobinoculars. “But I’ll always think of you as a coward if you don’t.” 

He leveled a teasing smirk in her direction; Evie wrinkled her nose at him and threw a cube of cheese towards his head. He ducked out of the way right before it could smack him in between the eyes. 

“That sounds like a challenge. Very well, I’ll tell you. Promise me you won’t interrupt or I’ll never get it out.” 

He put up one hand as though he were invoking a solemn oath and pressed his lips shut. With his back pressed against the sill, he waited patiently for her to start.

“When I was nine...” Her voice trailed off and she hesitated. He was staring at her with an intense expression, not unlike the one from an hour ago. “I can’t concentrate if you’re looking at me like that.” 

“Look at you like what?” He murmured softly before he recalled himself with a jerk. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then continued on with his characteristic smirk. “This is how my face looks incidentally. Wow, you are terrible at this.” He picked up his datapad and flicked it on, his actions suggested distraction, but she could see from his rigid posture that he was listening intently. 

“I told you once that the Empire took my family captive because we were Republic spies.” 

“Yes, I remember.” He remarked as he inputted data into his datapad. “You said they died in the Colossus Camp.” 

“My father died in the camp, my mother survived. When I was captured the Empire offered me a deal that I couldn’t refuse—work as an operative for twenty years, and so long as I upheld the terms of the contract, she wouldn’t be executed. Once the contract expired, I was free to leave the employ of the Empire and take my mother with me.” 

“You made that choice when you were nine?” 

His face radiated a mixture of pity and compassion, she couldn’t look away. 

“Yes. It’s not something I’m proud of. I wasn’t lying when I told you that I didn’t have a choice on whether or not to follow my orders.” 

The words tumbled out of her mouth freely now. The next part of her confession was the worst part, one that she hoped would be uttered without judgment from him. She averted her eyes and stared at the street as she spoke. 

“There’s more. When Intelligence learned that you and I were working together, they called my contract up for review. If I didn’t deliver the Black Codex to them, they would have executed her immediately...” 

His shoulders dropped back against the wall in shock as he absorbed her story. 

“The Star Cabal still has an operative working somewhere in the SIS. When you showed up on that ship, I didn’t know if I could trust you...but that’s not everything. The truth is...Theron, I...” Her throat was tight, the words died on her lips. 

It was impossible to admit the next part to him, the shame ran deep. He’d know the instant he heard it why she’d signed the contract. 

Her comm beeped; she gave a frustrated sigh and activated it. 

“What is it, Kaliyo?” She hissed in a tired voice. 

“I think you should know, your new friend just left the building in a hurry. Want me to follow her?” 

Evie scrambled to retrieve her macrobinoculars, her story was quickly forgotten. She scanned the street; the Selkath gave a furtive glance around then crossed the street to the Revanite safe house cloaked in purple shadow. With two knocks, the door opened, four larger shapes appeared. They conversed in a circle, she could barely make out their furious hand gestures. Then, they were on the move at a rapid clip down the street. 

“Don’t let them see you, comm as soon as you see anything suspicious.” 

Evie jumped to her feet and dove into her case to retrieve her stealth suit and other equipment. 

“This is our chance, I’ll start with the signal jammer on the roof. Once it’s down, I’ll get you an open line so that you can slice into their systems from here and see what you can dig up. If I don’t come back in thirty minutes, get yourself out and back to Lana.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not confident about this chapter. Hope it’s okay! Thanks for reading!


	8. Truth and Consequence

The air on the roof was crisp, to her right, the surf broke roughly against the rocky sea wall, to her left the street below was empty and across the large gap, on top of the building directly in front of her was the signal jammer. 

“Breaching the roof now. How does it look from the street?” She asked calmly, steadying herself precariously on the edge of the roof. Her balance wavered, she wobbled dangerously. Luckily, the night was dark, and her counterpart could not see her struggle from his position in their room. 

“Quiet. A little too quiet if you ask me. I don’t like it. You’re sure you don’t want backup?” 

“It’s too risky. If I fall to my death off of this roof, someone will need to trace the Revanite’s next steps and scrape my remains off the ground.” She leveled her grappling hook, steadied her arm, and shot. The hook sailed across the looming distance and struck with a satisfying clunk into the duracrete wall. “Besides, I was hoping to have at least one associate at the funeral to mourn me—or one who is willing to accept a hefty bribe to pretend.”

She heard him draw a long, shaky breath. 

“Yeah....could you pick someone else for that job this time? I’m worried I might be overqualified...”

Evie clipped her line to her stealth belt and stopped to analyze his response, the change in his mood. 

“You—you mourned for me?” She asked quietly, unable to believe her ears. 

“Me? No. Don’t be ridiculous...that’s just...” His voice trailed off, then he spoke again, slowly. “Yes...” He nearly choked on the word, his embarrassment radiated through the comm. “You sound surprised...” 

“A little. I didn’t think you cared. I’m touched...” 

“Before you get too full of yourself, think of it more as a testament to your work. You made your death look...Let’s just say I had nightmares for weeks. In my defense, Vector was fooled too.” 

Evie grimaced; her hands slowed her preparations as she mentally debated the pros and cons of telling him that Vector’s grief was a perfectly executed ruse. She was accustomed to lying; it was like a second skin to her. Yet, this particular lie left a very sour taste in her mouth and she was anxious to be rid of it. If she told him now, there was at least some physical distance between them, it somehow made the telling the truth more palatable. On the other hand, they were, after a day of uncomfortable skirmishing, finally friends again. She loathed the idea of relinquishing the easy peace between them. No, it was better to wait, face her fear of losing his friendship forever, and tell him face to face.

She took the jump at a run, gripped the line tightly, and dove off the roof. She zipped across the line and landed on the compound’s roof in a low crouch. She listened, waited for the sound of alarms, of thundering feet; all was quiet. She stalked through the darkness, made her way by feel and memory to the signal jammer. With her glow-rod clenched between her teeth, she set about disabling the jammer. 

“You know what I can’t figure out—how did you manage to get off the ship alive? The blast disabled all of the escape pods...” 

Evie pulled her vibroknife from her belt and slashed through the cables of the signal jammer. It sparked, then went quiet. 

“The jammer is down, I’m entering the building now. How many guards?” 

“Scanning now. Two life forms, both on the first level.” 

“I had a little help from our mutual friend, Teff’ith.” 

Silence cut through the comm abruptly; she gave her earpiece a tap to see if it was still functioning. 

“You’re angry...” Evie spoke hesitantly after he unleashed a long, irritated sounding sigh. 

“I wasn’t earlier but now I am. How are you better friends with Teff’ith than I am? How did you get her to keep her mouth shut?” 

“She was my ride to Ziost. For the right amount of credits, she’s surprisingly discreet. Your debt to her from Dromund Kaas is paid in full with interest, by the way. You’re welcome.” 

He muttered something indistinguishable through the comm and they drifted into a tense silence. 

Evie slipped through the first door on the roof. The compound was eerily calm, a maze of shipping crates, and strange Rakattan statues with eyes that seemed to follow her no matter where she was in the room. Odd; on the Star Cabal’s ship, they had similar statutes. It might have been a coincidence if she believed in that sort of thing (she didn’t.) She filed the observation away for later and continued down the hall. 

A large shadow loomed at her, she let out a sharp gasp and drew her knife. She swung her arm with a hearty slash and struck...stone. It was one of the statues, with a large cherubic face, unblinking eyes and a mouth that was twisted into a scream. Evie put her hand to her chest to slow her pounding heart and gave the statue a fierce retaliatory kick of her boot.

“What was that?” Theron asked sharply in her ear. 

“Nothing. It was nothing...uhh...something attacked me.” She lied through her teeth, unwilling to admit to him that an inanimate object got the better of her nerves. 

“Did you get it?” He sounded concerned for her well-being, not suspicious.

“Oh, I don’t think it will try anything again.” Evie smacked her hand against her forehead and rolled her eyes up to the stars at her foolish mistake. 

“There’s a data terminal on the next floor, in the room directly underneath your feet. They’ve got some sort of code sequence on it; I can’t access it from here.” 

“Acknowledged and understood,” She kept herself in the shadows, using the statue-lined route as shields as she made her way to the second level. 

“So Ziost huh? That’s an interesting choice for a vacation spot.” 

“Oh, so we are on speaking to terms? That’s good to know.” 

“I said I was angry with you—I’m not five. Not that room, the next one,” He corrected gruffly when she started to take a turn into what looked like a storage closet. 

“Ziost was where the Empire was keeping my mother imprisoned. I didn’t know how long it would take my superiors to figure out that the Black Codex wasn’t destroyed in the blast—“ 

“You kept it?” He exclaimed in a bewildered voice. “Why?” 

“You sound surprised, I’m a little insulted. Of course, I kept it. Did you really think I would hand over that type of power to the Sith?

She entered the room with her blaster drawn, did a quick survey of the room, and approached the data terminal. 

“It might be tricky to bypass the main system. If you try rerouting...” 

Evie tapped three commands into the console; the cursor on the screen blinked, ready for input. 

“You were saying?” She asked drily with a smirk in her voice. 

“How did you—“ He sputtered in disbelief and awe. “You were terrible at slicing. Where did you learn to do that?”

“On my adventures, I met a smuggler who shared a unique set of talents that were useful to me...” 

“Yeah, I’m sure he was willing to show you all his talents.” Theron groused under his breath. 

Was he...jealous? No, that wasn’t possible. He saw the opportunity for a well-placed verbal swipe and took it. 

“She,” Evie emphasized the word. “Had the patience and where-with-all to show me how to be a proper slicer. Can you access the data now?” 

“No, something is locking me out. You’ll have to make a back-up manually.” Evie dug into her tool belt and retrieved an empty data card. 

“So you’re a slicer, you’ve hidden one of the universe’s most dangerous pieces of intelligence from the Empire and the Republic. You broke your mother out of a Ziost prison, and you stole my best friend from right underneath my nose to make her your partner. Who are you...Aha, I’ve broken into their security feed. Let’s see what else they’re hiding. Scanning all floors...” 

Evie pocketed the loaded data card and set off to plant their listening devices. She planted one behind the fang of a gruesome looking statue with fierce claws. 

“What did you do with your time?” 

“Trained to resist coma gas.” He quipped drily; she heard the sly self-satisfied smirk without having to see it. 

“I’m going down to the first floor, where are the guards?” 

“They’re in the room directly to the left of the stairs, looks like they’re guarding something but the angle of the holocam is wrong. I can’t see what it is...hang on, someone’s coming...” 

Evie’s brows twisted into a frown. She activated her stealth belt and quickened her pace. 

“Theron? What’s happening?” 

“Get out of there, Evie. It’s a—!” Blaster fire punctuated the sentence, the comm went dead. Moments later, the building rocked and the echo of a distant explosion crescendoed into a roar. 

The world moved slowly, and she felt as though she were swimming against a strong current. Was she running? Yes, though not quickly enough for her taste. Evie spurned her aching muscles on. Their enemies were clever; she ought to have considered the possibility of a counter-attack after their wine was poisoned. Now Theron’s life was at risk if he wasn’t already...She pushed the image of him lying dead out of her mind. The thought pushed her feet to move faster. Heedless of sounds or sights, she burst through the front door of the building and skidded to a halt out on the street. Guests were streaming out of the lobby door wearing terrified expressions and their night clothes, carrying their worldly possessions with muffled shouts of alarm and wails of tears.

“Kaliyo, we have a situation. Where are you?” 

“In the lobby, or what’s left of it. Your new friend gave me the slip in an alley. By the time I realized it, she’d already made it back to the hotel.” 

Evie fought her way through the mass exodus, frustrated by the small clumps of people who gathered around to watch the proceedings. She heard small snatches of conversations as she passed. 

“The largest blasters I’ve ever seen...” One man spoke with a shaken voice. 

“We were tossed from our beds by the explosion.” 

Evie moved at a blistering pace now, her concern for Theron’s well-being twisted her stomach in knots. 

“Don’t go in there, they’ll shoot you.” One woman grabbed her by the arm and attempted to pull her back, Evie drew her blaster and wrenched her arm away with grim determination. 

A portion of the second floor was now in the middle of the lobby, crushing the once elegant front desk. Duracrete chunks lay scattered amongst the flames and other debris. Evie took a hesitant step forward into the remnant of the room. She heard a high pitch whistle to her right; her ears traced the sound until she saw Kaliyo, crouched behind a table heavily scorch marked with blaster fire. She took another step; a shot rang out, and narrowly missed her head. She dove to the ground and scrambled on her elbows through the wreckage to seek cover. Kaliyo fired a series of rapid shots with her blaster to cover her. 

“How many are there?” She asked Kaliyo breathlessly as she came around the table.

“There were six; took care of the rest. This son of a Kath Hound refuses to take a hint.” 

“Why don’t we try a more direct approach?” Evie inputted commands into her stealth belt to expand its range to cover Kaliyo. 

“Now you’re talking!” Kaliyo’s lips spread with a wicked smile and she eagerly prepped her rifle. 

“Stay close to me. After we’re finished here, we go after Theron.” 

 

The sniper fell with a blow of her vibroknife and a quick, painless shot from Kaliyo’s rifle. 

“What caused the explosion?” Evie asked, analyzing the blast pattern and finding it confusing. 

“Thermal detonator. Your boyfriend had them against the railing for a bit so they got desperate. Threw the detonator at him and hit the heat vent instead.” 

“He’s not my...” 

Kaliyo’s eyes gleamed with a wolffish air, daring her to finish the sentence so that she could pounce. Evie quickly reconsidered her strategy; it was a moot point. Arguing with Kaliyo over a term of endearment would be meaningless if the object of said endearment was lying dead or buried under rubble. 

They moved through the wreckage of splintered furniture noiselessly, each keeping their weapons up. At the corner of the hall, her ears caught the faintest murmurings of a conversation in one of the nearby rooms. It was his voice, the one voice that she would know anywhere. 

“Stay here, wait for my signal, and keep your comm on. No one escapes from this hallway alive. When you hear the word...well, you know what to do...” Evie murmured to Kaliyo.

“The Onderon method?” 

“Yes, I think that’s appropriate given the situation, don’t you?” 

She followed the sounds down the hall, pausing to check with her ear to each door. Five doors down, the volume grew louder with each word. Evie stopped to listen; she had a choice between two doors. Burst through the wrong one, and the element of surprise would be lost. 

“Gorima was a good man, your partner murdered him for his convictions,” Evie knew the voice; it was the Selkath clerk from the front desk. 

“Your husband tortured innocents to conduct his science experiments. How exactly do you define convictions?” 

Theron’s voice boomed through the door on her right; he was giving away his location. She wondered how he knew she was there, then remembered his implants could read heat signatures. He knew how to keep his wits about him; she admired his quick thinking. She holstered her blaster and analyzed the locking pad on the door. Slicing it would take some time, and without her data spike, the work would be slow. 

“The Order of Revan will bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy. You cannot stop it from happening. My husband’s work will live on in glory...It’s a shame that you won’t. I’ll ask you one last time. Where is the data you stole?” 

“I don’t have it.” 

Evie reacted; she fired a single shot at the locking pad, the door slid open with a hiss. She heard the sounds of a struggle, and as she entered the room, saw the Selkath wrap her arms around Theron’s neck, step behind him, and put the barrel of her blaster against his temple. He was wounded with a badly blistered blaster burn on his shoulder and a gushing cut on his forehead. One of the Selkath’s claws dug viciously into his shoulder, burrowing further into flesh the more that he struggled to free himself. 

“Drop it,” Evie ordered with a voice that was steadier than she felt. 

Her mind worked at a rapid pace, calculating blaster bolt trajectories and possible methods of termination. Theron was the perfect shield; he was both too tall and too broad. There was not a single shot from any corner of the room that she could fire without mortally wounding him in the process. They were at a stalemate. 

“Give me the data, or your partner dies...” 

She studied her opponent who up until this moment had played them with a cool game of strategy. So how, in turn, did she play this? It needed to be done with a delicate touch or Theron’s life was forfeit. Did she beg and plead for his life? No; this was too predictable. Given their playacting earlier in the day, and the fact that she had tried to poison them, this would gain nothing. She could surrender the data, then hope that a moment arrived where she might retrieve it later—too risky. A third option presented itself; it was shrewd, streamlined, and decidedly the most pragmatic choice. 

“Kill him,” Evie paused for dramatic effect. “Partners like him are a credit a dozen—he’s expendable.”

Theron’s eyes went wide with disbelief and horror. He shook his head, as though he was trying to wake himself up from a nightmare. It was the Star Cabal ship all over again, his face crumpled with disappointment and betrayal like a wounded animal. She dropped her eyes to the floor. There was no way to communicate the ruse without giving it away; she’d have to humble herself later though it bothered her that he was so quick to accept that she’d so readily sacrifice him. Evie worked instead to keep her face impassive, and managed the veneer of an icy sneer. 

The feint worked; the Selkath appeared puzzled and lowered her defenses ever so slightly in confusion. A touch more of the melodramatic flair and they’d have her. 

“In fact, why don’t I save you the trouble? I’ll do it myself. Goodbye, Theron.” Evie raised her blaster higher, pointed it directly between his furrowed brows. The Selkath flinched and shifted to Evie’s right to avoid the killing blow.

A single shot rang out; Theron recoiled with his eyes squeezed shut, prepared for death. The Selkath fell to the floor in a harmless heap behind him. He wrenched one eye open, then the other, and blinked down at the body in shock. 

“Nice shot Kaliyo,” Evie called with a smile over her shoulder as she holstered her weapon. 

“You didn’t make it easy. Agent broad shoulders was in the way the whole time. If you hadn’t said the last part, he’d be missing an ear.” 

Theron’s head swiveled between both women, his face ran through a range of emotions before settling on quiet indignation. Wordlessly, Evie reached into her tool pouch and retrieved to Kolto patches. 

“Here, that looks painful.” She offered it to him as a peace offering, he snatched the patches out of her hand with a dark look. 

“Are you two done congratulating each other?” He asked curtly as he applied the first patch to his shoulder with a long wheeze of pain. “We need to get that data back to Lana before we run into any more trouble.” 

He slapped the second patch to his forehead, and without another word, strode out of the room at an angry clip. 

“He’s kind of scrappy,” Kaliyo remarked with a smirk, while she appeared to consider his behavior for a moment. After a beat, she added: “I like him.” 

 

They slipped out of the building and into the night unseen, walking side-by-side with the break of the waves filling the void. Evie shot furtive glances at Theron; his jaw muscles tensed and flexed, his eyes were tight and distant. He was angry; she didn’t pretend to know why. After all, she’d saved his life twice in one day; in her mind, that might earn a person some gratitude. She tried to analyze when the change had occurred. Was it because she worked with Teff’ith without telling him? No, he didn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge for that. 

They were close to the safe house; the glowing lights shone through the single window. With her well-placed informants, Lana would have heard the news about the explosion at the hotel by now. Tardily, Evie realized that they ought to have sent her a message confirming their survival. Lana was probably out tearing Manaan apart looking for them. A sharp elbow jabbed her between her third and fourth rib. She pulled herself from her revelry to favor Kaliyo with a cross expression. Wordlessly, Kaliyo tilted her head in the direction of the sea wall; Theron had taken an unexpected detour. 

With a steadily growing sense of dread, she followed his path, with Kaliyo trailing behind her at a distance. With her arms hugged around her for warmth; she waded into uncharted territory. 

“You’re angry with me again, why?” She thought a more direct approach would be best. She was wrong. 

“I’m not,” His reply was short; her eyes jumped to the jaw muscle, which was working overtime to transcribe the emotions he was unwilling to share. 

She let the silence settle between them thoughtfully, with her eyes fixed on the horizon. 

“Did you know that everyone has a tell?” She began conversationally; she received no response in return so she plunged on with abandon. 

“Kaliyo’s lip twitches when she lies, Lokin has this peculiar little sniff. When you lie, you have a tell-tale jaw muscle that contracts on the left-hand side of your face. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The tension in his shoulders melted ever so slightly. He shifted his posture forward and leaned his arms against the sea wall. 

“Easier to read than a holonovel.” He admitted with a bitter smile. 

“Why are you angry?” She queried in a softer voice. 

“I’m not angry, I’m confused. One minute we’re friends, the next you’ve got a knife to my throat. You disappear for months, you reappear with a story that doesn’t sound like the truth. You told Teff’ith, someone that you barely know, the truth about your disappearance but you refuse to tell me...” 

“Did she tell you the part about Vector? That was my favorite part.” Kaliyo’s voice broke through the quiet like a jet engine. 

“Quiet Kaliyo,” Evie hissed between her teeth. Theron shot her a questioning look. 

“What about Vector?” His voice was calm, the anger was barely simmering on the surface. 

“Get this little gem: she told Vector about her disappearing act and left the rest of us in the dark...” 

Evie’s posture sank lower, Theron’s back went rigid. 

“Vector knew? For how long?” 

“From the beginning...” 

He turned to face her and gave a frustrated, demoralized sigh. 

“You say that we’re partners but when you play things this close to the chest and deal in other players but not me, it makes it seem like I’m expendable to you.” 

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to walk away. Hot tears pricked her eyes, but she did not allow them to fall. 

“What about you then?” She called to his back with her shoulders squared for a fight. “You constantly jump to conclusions about my choices and rush to pass judgment.”

He swung around on his heel and took a step toward her. 

“Yes, that seems like the logical path when the other person never tells you the whole story.” 

“Even now, you have the opportunity to ask for the truth and you don’t because, in your eyes, I’m already guilty.” 

“Fine. What is the whole story?” He called her bluff. 

She gathered herself, her mouth fell open, then closed itself shut as though the words were permanently glued to her tongue. 

“You asked me if you were obnoxiously guarded—I think you found your answer.” He turned again and started to make an abrupt path toward the safe house. Evie found her voice, feeling as though the growing distance between them was ripping it from her throat. 

“There’s a second contract.” She called after him, her voice carried on the light breeze. Theron stopped in his tracks. “When the Empire discovered we were working together, they ordered me to kill you or they would execute my mother. When I refused, they were going to send an assassin after you, and execute all of us. So I cut a deal: finish my ten years of service for the life of my mother...and add ten more in exchange for yours...” 

“What?” Theron asked in disbelief. 

“What?!” Kaliyo parroted gleefully, as though she could hardly believe her good fortune at having overheard this conversation. 

Evie rounded on her and pulled out the datacard from her pouch. 

“Take this to Lana, start running analysis on the data. Tell her we’ll be there shortly.” 

“You always send me on an errand just when things are getting interesting.” Kaliyo snatched the card out of Evie’s hand.

The darkness hid his face in shadow and she was glad for it. If his face radiated judgment she didn’t think she could continue. The wind picked up from the sea, the waves bellowed in response. Evie shivered at the chill as she watched Kaliyo retreat from view. 

“Evie...you did that for me?” His voice was low, gravely but gentle. “Why?” 

“I don’t know why. I suppose it was because...you’re a good man—a far better champion for good than the galaxy deserves, and a much better friend than I deserve. In short, not remotely expendable.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“What would you have done if I had?” 

“Tried to stop you...” 

“Besides, the Sith wanted the Black Codex. I knew it could never fall into their hands, and that it wouldn’t be safe in the hands of the Republic...So I added a clause to my contract...In the event of my death, both contracts would be void and you both would go free. So long as I remained hidden, you would be safe, I could quietly work to root out the rest of the Star Cabal, and the Sith would never get their hands on the Codex...”

That was enough honesty for one night. It felt good; her soul was strangely cleansed, and she could breathe freely again perhaps for the first time since joining the ranks of the Empire. 

Her comm beeped, the shrill sound pierced the silence. 

“This is Lana, Agent Colspur. I’ve analyzed your data and there is much to discuss. Come at once.” 

The silence between them was excruciating. He said very little, other than the occasional question—it was hardly the reaction she imagined. Whether the silence was prompted by shock, panic, outrage, or disgust at her actions, she couldn’t tell. When she couldn’t bear it any longer, Evie’s voice broke hesitantly into the quiet. 

“We shouldn’t keep her waiting.” 

“You go ahead. I want a little time to...think.” 

Evie shut her eyes; thinking wasn’t a good sign—if she had to guess, she’d imploded their friendship with her confession and he was considering the best way tell her that he wanted nothing more to do with her nonsense. Things between them would never be the same and she wished that it didn’t matter to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	9. A Recipe for Disaster

Theron walked aimlessly with his hands shoved into his pockets. His mind was a thick tangled weedy mess; shock, wonder, fear, guilt were muddled together and at the center of the quagmire was Evie. How was it possible to know a person, to understand a little of their quirks, their mannerisms, their way of thinking, and somehow miss their essence entirely? Some spy he was! The answers to all the riddles were right under his nose the whole time but he stumbled in darkness like a blind, willfully ignorant fool. 

He ran a tired hand over his face and felt a sharp stab of pain above his eyebrow. His fingers clumsily touched the soft scrap of kolto patch; she handed it to him without so much as a blink of an eye, then endured his scathing irritation with her without complaint. Stars, she saved his life twice in the space of four hours and he didn’t so much as acknowledge it once. Hell, it was his fault that she was forced into hiding for six months without the comfort of her companions, and he had done nothing but question her integrity for it.

He accused her of playing things close to the chest when in fact, he was the master of it. Alienation was his chosen medium. It was easier that way, no attachments, no strings. It left no untidy feelings exposed when things inevitably ended. He supposed that was why he met her gestures of friendship with so much unconscious hostility. Why would anyone show him that level of investment without an ulterior motive? No one else in his life had ever done half as much. He was an inconvenient secret to his mother, a painful reminder of unrequited love to his father. His existence didn’t matter to his own family, but somehow it mattered to Evie. The thought sent a thrill down his spine and filled his gut with dread. He knew how to diffuse a bomb, could slice his way through data terminals and files....but this...what was he supposed to do with this? More importantly, what did Evie mean to him?

He looked up from the ground; his beleaguered mind led him to the safe house door. The walk had done little to quell his anxiety. Without a doubt, he owed her an apology, well, actually, he probably owed her five. He ought to say ‘thank you’ for saving his life. From there, the answers for the right path were nebulous. The door slid open; he came face to face with the stern, golden-yellow eyes of Lana Beniko. 

“We were just about to send Jakarro after you...” Lana began in a harried voice. “We’ve come across a potential complication...” 

His eyes were drawn to a familiar fiery flash of copper over Lana’s shoulder. She abandoned her disguise; the scar, the nose, and the wig were missing. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and damp from the fresher. His pulse gave an inexplicable uptick. Jakarro gave a delighted growl; he stroked the hair in an admiring way, then allowed Evie to feel the texture of his fur as though he wanted them to compare notes.

“Jakarro wishes you to know that you have bountiful hair of a mighty Wookie.” Ceetoo Deefour proclaimed in a loud voice with pride. 

“Thank you,” Evie returned with the mock solemnity of a diplomat. “That is high praise indeed.” 

Her sly smile slowly crept to her lips, as she appeared to be puzzling through whether or not she should be flattered or insulted by the compliment. He felt a familiar pang in his chest; his lips, without meaning to, curled upward into a soft smile. Lana’s eyes narrowed, and she followed the direction of his gaze before she turned back to him with a curious tilt of her head. 

“Complication? What complication?” Theron heard himself ask Lana through a fog. 

“The data you stole is written entirely in code, some type of ancient Rakatan language and a system set-up by the Revanites. We’re at an impasse.” 

“Give me ten minutes, then I’ll take a crack at it.” 

 

He moved slowly; the wound in his arm stung from a fresh Kolto patch and in truth, he was avoiding a scenario where his confused mind would have to interact with his own personal ‘complication’. He took a steadying breath; he needed to focus on the mission. Without breaking the code, they had no idea where Darok and Arkous were heading next. He rounded the corner to the main room. Evie and Jakarro each stood with combative stances; Lana sat on a stool with her hand covering her eyes in defeat, and Kaliyo lingered with her shoulder pressed to a wall, coolly watching the scene with a bemused smirk. 

“You’ll forgive me for saying it Jakarro, we tried that symbol substitution before, I don’t think...” 

Evie was interrupted by a bellowing, frustrated roar from Jakarro which was met by a withering gaze from her. Theron knew the look—Jakarro did not know his opponent or what he was up against. 

“Losing your temper isn’t going to solve the problem.” Ceetoo-Deefour chided in an exasperated voice. “Apologies, Agent Colspur. He tends to say whatever pops into his head when he hasn’t eaten.” 

“He’s not the only one,” Theron quipped with a tone that was lighter than he felt. “Here, why don’t you let me look at it for a while. Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can be useful.” 

Lana shot him a grateful look and handed him her datapad, she motioned to Kaliyo, and the two stood in quiet confab while he worked. He flicked it on and felt his eye twitch at the dizzying array of symbols and numbers. It was worse than he feared. 

“I can set-up an algorithm that will search for repetitive patterns and cross-search the symbols over the holonet. It’s not much but we might be able to crack a few words that way.” He muttered more to himself than to anyone around him. 

“How long will that take for it to find something?” Evie asked quietly without looking up from her datapad. 

“A few hours, maybe more. It’s our best option.” 

“Excellent work, Agent Shan. Kaliyo and I have come up with a possible solution to another one of our chief problems.” Lana shot a furtive glance at Jakarro, who was pacing on the outer edge of the room and having a heated exchange with Ceetoo-Deefour. 

“I think we’re all in agreement that the ration bars are...subpar...” Lana gave a disgusted wrinkle of her nose. 

“Garbage,” Jakarro added from across the room. 

“I propose that for the time that we work together, we start a KP rotation. Two of us will take on each meal until more suitable rations can be found. Are we all in agreement? Wonderful!” She didn’t pause or wait for a consensus; Lana plunged on with a tone that brooked no argument. 

“Kaliyo will be back shortly with the usual staples for us. She suggested that Agent Colspur and Agent Shan should prepare the first meal since neither of you thought to check-in with me after the hotel explosion.” 

“Tell me you’re joking.” Theron burst out with an uncomfortable sideways glance to Evie. 

His mind was already a disaster; the last thing he needed was to spend more time in a room alone with her. 

“Imperials aren’t known for their sense of humor,” Lana returned with a thin-lipped self-deprecating smile. 

“It’s true,” Evie added as an aside. “Though wouldn’t our time be better served to try to break the code? After all...”

“Nonsense, we have several capable minds in our number. We can spare you both for an hour. Kaliyo also mentioned that you worked in a kitchen at one point of your life, which makes you more qualified than the rest of us not to poison us all.” 

“That was a long time ago. Besides, Agent Shan is the expert in slicing, he should be the one...” 

“Is there a problem I should be aware of, some unknown reason why the two of you shouldn’t be working together?” Lana asked with a wide-eyed curious expression. For a brief moment, he wondered if Lana had guessed of their previous alliance together or if she was bluffing. 

“No,” They both said with the petulant voices of two scolded children. 

“Surely this can’t be too challenging of a task to ask of the legendary Cipher Nine, or the Republic’s most decorated field agent...”

Kaliyo burst into the room with her arms filled with parcels wrapped in brown flimsipaper. She was panting, as though she had sprinted through all of her shopping. As she walked by to place her treasures in the kitchen, she grinned at Evie from ear to ear. Evie glowered at her and though he might have mistaken the gesture, he thought he saw her motion the cut of a knife against her throat with her pointer finger in Kaliyo’s direction. Apparently, he was not the only one with reservations about the task. He didn’t know whether that made him feel better or worse. 

“In the meantime,” Lana wore the pleasant smile of a victor enjoying their spoils. “We’ll endeavor to soldier on with our work here. May the Force ever serve you in this quest, Agents...” 

 

She prepared for her work in the kitchen in the same precise way she prepared her gear before each mission-with exacting precision and attention to placement. Each flimsi covered package was unwrapped and sorted by type; meat in one corner, spices and butter in the other, vegetables in the center. He thought about teasing her about it, then reconsidered. What was his play here? Did he start off with an apology—confront the Bantha in the room head on? She was standing over the counter holding her hand with a frustrated scowl and a sweep of stray curls that hovered over one eye. She blew them out of her face with an exasperated puff of air as she dropped her hands in defeat. No, she was showcasing a rare hint of temper. This was not the time or place. His eyes drifted to her hand, which glowed with an irritated red. She clutched the fourth finger of her left hand; the silver band that adorned the finger gleamed in the light. 

“Hey,” He choked on the word as he said it. “What’s cooking?”

He immediately winced at the awkwardness of his opening line. That was what he went with? 

“What?” She asked him distractedly after a beat. 

She gave the ring another abrupt tug. It didn’t budge; she seemed not to notice his faux pas. Whew, he lucked out on that one. 

“I asked how I can help.” He amended smoothly; there she’d never suspect a thing. 

“I meant to give this back to Lana earlier. I was worried it would come off in the food—now I’m worried it won’t come off at all.” 

“Here, let me try.” He offered in a quiet voice. “May I?”

She favored him with a wary stare, her lips parted as though she meant to refuse, then ever so slowly she nodded. He offered her his hand. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor as she dropped her hand into his. He studied the delicate fingers and the inflamed patch of skin around the ring with a thoughtful air. Without conscious thought, he ran his thumb across her knuckles, then ever so slowly started to work the ring off her finger. His eyes drifted to her face; she was studying him with a perplexed expression that left him feeling exposed. 

“We may need to amputate,” He said with mock seriousness to relieve a little of the tension that he felt. 

He was rewarded with one of her little smiles; his shoulders relaxed. 

“I have an idea.” He tucked his hand around hers and led her closer to the counter. He picked up one of the knives. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Trust me.” 

With the knife, he sliced off a small sliver of butter, mashed it in his hand, and gently coated her finger with it. 

“Brilliant,” She praised warmly as the ring slid off her finger without so much as a hint of protest. 

He gave her a modest smile as he offered her back the ring. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have a place to put it. Will you keep it safe for me?” She patted her pocketless pants in chagrin. 

“Always,” He murmured more to himself than to her as he tucked it into the hidden breast pocket of his jacket where he’d placed his ring earlier. 

If she heard his mawkishness, she didn’t acknowledge it. In fact, she seemed to be avoiding the night’s previous revelations at any cost. 

“You know how to use one of these?” She asked him, picking up a small knife and tossing it carelessly in her hand by the hilt.

“I have a rough idea,” He said, picking up the same knife and tossing it in the same way she had with a sideways grin. He missed the hilt and nearly caught the tip of the blade with his fingers. Wisely, he avoided the choice at the last second and the knife clattered harmlessly to the floor. He scrambled to pick it up and clean it off. There was no recovering from that flub. Why was the room so hot? 

“Perhaps your time might be better spent working toward cracking the code, I won’t tell anyone.” She said as she picked up an onion and dealt it a decisive blow with her knife. 

“And earn the wrath of both you and Lana Beniko? I’d never lived out the night.” He said with a self-deprecating smile. He reached over her shoulder and retrieved another onion from the pile. 

“If you keep holding your knife like that, you won’t live out the night.” She said with a horrified expression at the way he was chopping. “Where did you learn to chop like that?” 

“This may come as a surprise, but I was something of a rebel when I first joined the SIS.” 

“Was it the jacket?” She asked him drily. 

“It might have been the jacket—and the fact that I routinely disobeyed orders. Long story short, when I’d mouth off they’d throw me onto KP detail until I learned to keep my opinions to myself. Chopped a lot of onions my first two years of basic.” 

He was still working on the first half of his onion. Evie was nearly three-quarters of the way through with chopping the remainder of the pile of vegetables. The pieces sat carefully sorted, precisely diced into small chunks. He fought the urge to stare slack-jawed at it. In contrast, chunks of his onion were falling onto the floor, his knife slipped and nearly slit the tip of his finger. 

“If you hold the knife like this,” She held her knife with her hand closer to the blade than the edge of the hilt. “You’ll have more control over the direction.” 

“Like this?” He asked, doing his best to mimic her hand position. She analyzed his grip and bit her lip to prevent a smile as she shook her head. 

“Not quite, here.” She set aside her knife, wiped her hands on a nearby towel, and gently put her hand on his hand. 

He let out a startled gasp at the touch; all at once she was invading his space and his senses. She pulled her hand away from his with a frown. 

“Sorry, must have fallen on it today. It’s a little sore.” He lied; he shook his hand to stop the lingering burn that her touch left. She turned back to her work and picked up her knife. 

“Mind showing me again?” He asked almost hoarsely. 

If he tried it again on his own, he would have been able to replicate the grip perfectly. In truth, he wanted her to touch his hand again, to have an excuse to be near her. 

She obliged with a small incline of her head, set her knife aside and gingerly rested her hand on his arm. Her hand slid over his, she made a few minor adjustments to the grip with narrowed scrutinizing eyes while she worked. The hair on his arm shot up when her fingers grazed the top of his hand. 

“There, try the onion again.” She asked after the final adjustment was made. 

He struggled to find his voice again as she returned to her cutting board. 

“Much better.” He said with genuine surprise at the change of his slicing. “When was the first time you touched a knife?” He asked between cuts in a fruitless effort to distract himself. 

“I was seven. My father taught me how to use them properly in a kitchen, my mother taught me how to properly throw them.” 

“In a kitchen?” He burst out with a laugh. 

“She was the head cook; she ran her kitchen with an iron fist and the sharpest of knives. Her cooks feared and respected her.” 

He imagined that if Evie’s mother was anything like Evie that she would be a terrifying thing to behold. 

“She must have been happy to see you on Ziost.” He remarked in an off-handed way. 

“She was, at first,” 

“At first?” 

“Yes...” She hesitated, focused on chopping the meat into small cubes. Her lips pulled tight, her jaw was set. He felt a twinge of disappointment; she was going to lock him out of her life again. They worked in silence as the minutes ticked on, then with a long slow breath, she spoke. 

“When she learned about my bargain with the Empire she had second thoughts. In her mind, the correct course would have been to let her die rather than serve ‘the enemy’. There are apparently some crimes that are unforgivable even in the most extreme of circumstances...” 

She threw a large handful of vegetables into a pan and watched them sizzle with a glum, lifeless expression. 

“You made the right choice.”

“I made the choice that I could live with.” 

He turned back to his butchered onion and continued to chop, trying to train his hand to use the knife correctly. Now seemed as good a time as any to humble himself at her feet. If her own mother could not appreciate her sacrifice, he’d make sure that she knew that he did. 

“I think I owe you an apology,” 

“Yes, your knife skills are offensively abysmal.” She teased with a playful wrinkle of her nose. 

He smiled and bit back a sardonic response—now was not the time for banter. 

“I’m sorry that uhhhh...” 

Why did his mouth get tied up in knots right when he needed it most around her? In any other circumstance, he was articulate, suave even. It was different with her—and that’s when it hit him. He wanted to pick up his cutting board and smack it against his face, onions and all, for his own stupidity. His unanswered question from his earlier musings echoed in his mind as he inadvertently stumbled upon the answer. What did Evie mean to him? Without knowing how, or why, or even when, she meant everything. Even the simplest action, like an apology which he knew she rightly deserved, took on added weight. He drew a slow breath, used his meditative training to steer his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You’re not guarded; you’re the bravest person I know and you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. I’ll never deserve the ten years of your life that you were willing to sacrifice for me but I’m grateful for what you did. Thank you...” 

There was a clatter of a spoon striking a counter, then silence. He looked down to see her hand on his arm. He set his knife aside and turned to face her with a curious lift of his brow. Her hands were on his cheeks; his heart started to pound. What was happening? She stood on tiptoe, gently tilted his head down toward her face, and without any warning or explanation shyly brushed her lips against his. 

This was a dream, wasn’t it? He would wake up any second now, alone in his bed and drenched with sweat. He gasped and pulled his lips away from hers expecting the dream to end. Except this wasn’t a dream. Those were her eyes that burned into his with desire and curiosity. All at once, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Indecision and shock paralyzed his body. He wanted this since... oh stars, he’d wanted this without realizing it since Dromund Kaas. Why couldn’t he show her now? He willed his arms to move; they didn’t budge. White hot fear surged through his veins. His attraction to her was all good and well when he thought it went unnoticed or when he was worried she would betray him. Now it was tangible; there was no impediment between them. She was here within arms reach and he was unequivocally missing his shot with her. His eyes drank in her expression; her face slowly dropped into disappointment at his lack of response. 

“I’m sorry,” She breathed softly against his lips. “I shouldn’t have done that...” 

There was a click, then a bright flash of light. Evie and Theron both turned, and were face to face with Kaliyo and her holocamera. 

“Well, well, what’s simmering in here?” 

They shot away from each other red-faced and guilty, his lips still felt the lingering taste of hers. Kaliyo’s grin widened at their obvious discomfort. 

“What do you want, Kaliyo?” Evie asked; she returned to the boiling pot to give it several overly vigorous stirs. 

“The Sith wanted you to know that they cracked the code. They found the Revanite’s next stomping ground. They’re headed to Rakata Prime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! It’s on the fluffy side. I’m sorry :)


	10. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

They would depart for Rakata Prime within the hour. Recon, a solid map, and other details that she personally preferred to operate with before going into an opp would be gathered once they arrived. There was no dealing with the aftermath of her poor decision in the kitchen. They were instantly pulled in different directions, answering questions, analyzing data. He and Jakarro were having an intense looking conversation in the corner. She was entrenched in a debate with Lana that didn’t seem to have an end. 

“I won’t require back-up. If you send a whole team of people with me, someone will get hurt and our numbers can’t afford that. If I fall in the field, one of you can pick up where I leave off...”

It was dangerous to argue with a Sith. She was doing her level best to keep hold of her temper, but she could see in the way that Lana pursed her lips that she was losing her edge.

“I don’t understand why you won’t let me send Agent Shan with you, or at minimum, send him in your place instead.”

Evie’s eyes darted over to Theron. He was standing alone now, datapad in hand, studying the screen with a frown and a small lock of hair drifting carelessly across his forehead. Her heart ached in her chest; she ought to have never kissed him. It was a mistake on her part, a catastrophic one, but even though he made it plain that her feelings were one-sided, she desperately wanted to do it again. Moreover, the strange urge to keep him out of danger persisted. 

“You’d send an SIS agent to do an Imperial’s job? I’m insulted.” Evie teased with a vague hint of a smile. This seemed to cool Lana’s temper. 

“I see your point. You’ll work alone as requested.” 

Lana excused herself to converse with Theron, Evie slipped from the room. She was grateful for the diversion in truth. Her mind, when left without the sanctity of work, could not be trusted to make good decisions that much was evident. She rounded the hall toward her quarters; a shadow jumped out at her. Evie pulled her knife with a loud gasp. In her distracted musings, she’d run head first into Kaliyo, who was posed against the wall waiting for this exact moment to pounce. 

“How many people did you startle by standing like that until I came along?” Evie asked crossly, releasing the handle of her knife with a long slow calming breath. 

“Just Jakarro. You should have seen it; the droid nearly short-circuited.” 

“What do you want Kaliyo?” 

“You know what I want—girl talk.” 

Evie stopped walking with a groan. 

“I’ve told you before, I don’t do girl talk—it’s vulgar. Besides, I don’t see the need for it. You were at the meeting, we have a dangerous mission ahead of us.”

“There’s always a dangerous mission, or a new crazy group that wants to rule the galaxy—none of that is new. Will you just stop for one second? Look at this holo of you and your boyfriend.” 

Evie refused to look at the glowing blue holo that displayed her gross error in judgment. She kept her gaze firmly fixated on the tile pattern on the floor. 

“For the last time, he’s not my—oh never mind. What’s your point?”

She dodged around Kaliyo and ran stomach first into the holocam with a loud ‘oomph’. Kaliyo eagerly pressed it into her hands with a conniving grin. 

“All I know is if he looked at me the way that he’s been looking at you all night, he wouldn’t be sleeping alone tonight...” 

Evie’s eyes drifted down to the holocamera that sat clutched in her hand, while a scorching heat drifted up to her cheeks. 

“Lana said that she needed someone to stay behind at the safe house and keep an eye on our equipment. Since you were so eager to volunteer me for KP duty tonight, I told her you wouldn’t mind.” 

Evie snatched the holocam out of Kaliyo’s hands with a challenging lift of her eyebrows daring her to argue. She was irritated, there was a fire burning in her eyes, but she accepted her punishment with no contest. Evie smiled smugly, patted Kaliyo on the shoulder, gave the holocam a jaunty flip in her hand and hurried into her room. 

Once she was sure Kaliyo wasn’t listening, she promptly walked over to the nearest wall and tapped her forehead against it with a muffled groan of frustration. Kaliyo was toying with her; an extension of her passive aggressive punishment for her disappearance. There probably wasn’t anything special on the holocam; he pulled away from their kiss, had barely acknowledged that it happened. Those weren’t the actions of a man who was remotely interested in any sort of romantic entanglement. Frustrated with herself for believing in Kaliyo’s insinuations, she tossed the offending contraption on her bed. As she prepared her equipment, she found her eyes frequently resting on the holocam. It wouldn’t hurt to look, would it? After all, Kaliyo was something of an expert in the field of romance. Maybe there was something that she had missed? She dropped her ropes into her bag, her tool kit, and her kolto patches, all the while her eyes never left the silver orb. Oh, this was absolute nonsense. There was nothing to see in the holo, even though she wished with all her heart that there was. 

 

Jakarro’s ship was permanently encrusted with dirt and rust. Every surface from the walls, to the seats, to every tiny bolt was covered in a sticky substance. The walls rattled, the engine sputtered so fiercely that it made a normal conversation impossible. The noise of the ship, and the growls of their Wookie captain made her escape undetectable. She traipsed through the hull of the ship, skirting unknown fluids and piles of refuse until she found what she was looking for, a place to avoid her shipmates, or rather, one shipmate in particular. After several minutes of thorough searching, she found the perfect location. She curled her back into a less grimy-looking corner of the ship, in between two large shipping containers. Evie sank down against the wall with her pack bleary-eyed and exhausted. Since arriving on Manaan, she’d slept very little and her stores of adrenals were depleted. She thought about asking Jakarro about making a cup of Caf but quickly reconsidered as her eyes swept over the poor conditions of the ship. She doubted she’d want to put her lips to any cup Jakarro had to offer. This would also require having a conversation with Ceetoo Deefour and she’d already heard more about Onderon in one hour than she’d ever wanted to know in one lifetime. 

Jakarro’s ship gave a shuddering cough as it launched into hyperspace. She happily settled into her nook and set about making it comfortable. She pulled out her tool kit, her stealth belt and...odd, she could have sworn...she rifled through her bag in search of Karus Jan’s datapad. Blast! In her distracted state, she must have left it at the safe house. She had planned to use the time to review the Revanite data. Yes, she recalled with perfect clarity, setting the datapad on the table in her haste to escape and avoid Theron. She was allowing her personal feelings to interfere with the integrity of her work; she loathed herself for it. Evie blew her hair out of her face with a frustrated sigh and settled for working on her next project instead. She pulled her silver stealth belt onto her lap and from her tool kit retrieved a slim, cylindrical pick, and steadied the belt in her hand.

The belt had been malfunctioning ever since her fight with Hunter in an unexpected way. It still managed to stealth correctly, and she’d even increased the range to include more associates in its cover. Now, by sheer happenstance, if she overloaded the main circuits, she was able to cross small distances at a rapid rate in stealth and reappear like a deadly ghost. Lokin had called it some sort of inane scientific term, something like holotraverse or some such nonsense. Temple had nicknamed it the spectral surprise, and much to Lokin’s dismay and irritation, it stuck. 

She prodded a circuit with her tool; her ears detected the faint thud of boots. He gave a soft cough to announce his presence. Evie cringed inwardly; her heart started to jump wildly in her chest. Practically speaking, it was a better strategy to confront her mistake head on, apologize to him for her lapse in conduct, then pretend it never happened (standard Imperial procedure when dealing with an uncomfortable situation). Her lips formed an apology to fill the awkward silence, he beat her to the punch. 

“Something wrong with your tech?” He asked almost shyly. 

He shifted his weight on his feet, arms were crossed at his chest, his brows were pinched at the forehead. Oh dear, he was as on edge as she was. At least he was still willing to converse with her and she hadn’t completely destroyed their friendship with her overeager advances. Evie felt a modicum of relief. Perhaps the situation was salvageable after all. 

“On the contrary, I’m adding a new functionality.” Her voice was steady, her demeanor calm. 

He shifted away from the edge of the crates; his mouth was set with a decisive thin line as, without invitation or warning, he sat down beside her. She scooted farther to the corner to make room for him. Space was limited, his shoulder brushed hers as he settled his back up against the wall. Her discomfort grew exponentially; her self control dangled by a thread. The last thing she needed was having him sitting in close proximity to her. 

“Color me intrigued. May I?” He asked as he politely retrieved the belt from her hands. He studied the housing unit with a clinical air. 

“The goal is to put stress on the circuits so that they overload but don’t combust.” 

She explained with a yawn as she reached over his shoulder to point out the two burnt out circuits from previous attempts.

“To what end?” He asked as he reached over to retrieve a small tool from her kit.

“When it’s working correctly, if I press the button twice, I’m able to travel under cover of stealth several meters in a matter of seconds, taking an enemy completely unawares. I call it, the spectral surprise.” 

His face brightened significantly. 

“You can holotraverse? That’s fantastic!” He exclaimed with an admiring grin. 

“You know your science. I’m impressed.” 

“I know tech.” He amended as she stifled another yawn. 

The warmth of the cargo hold, the coziness between them was not aiding her fatigue. Little by little, his calm demeanor, the ease of their conversation chipped away at her discomfort until it faded into the recesses of memory. She was so happy to have his company she found her error of judgment didn’t matter anymore. If this was to be the extent of their relationship, so be it. 

“How do you know so much about tech?” She asked softly. 

He reached into her small toolbox and retrieved a delicate pick that in his hands looked even more ridiculously small. He raised the belt closer to his face to see as he painstakingly prodded a circuit. 

“It started as a necessity. Zho wasn’t particularly tech savvy, I taught myself how to be useful. I guess it was my way of repaying him for his training....” His voice trailed off as he switched tools. “When we discovered I wasn’t Force-sensitive, tech helped me to compensate for the failure...”

“Hence the implants,” 

“Yes...” He looked concerned that she’d connected the dots to that revelation so quickly. “SIS training and work in the field filled in the rest of the gaps.” 

He slid the housing to the belt closed with a decisive click and handed it back to her. 

“I made a few adjustments. You should be able to activate it without frying circuits now...” 

When she reached for the belt, her fingers accidentally brushed his. A small electric current shot up her arm and she felt a small flush climb up to her cheeks. 

“Thanks...” 

“We should probably talk about...” They both burst out at the same time. She smothered a laugh, and his face softened into a grin. 

“You go first,” 

“Were you going to say we should talk about Rakata Prime?” He asked with a hint of a nervous expression as he tucked his hand into his inner jacket pocket. He retrieved Karus Jan’s battered datapad and handed it over to her. “Here, I noticed that you left this on the table at the safe house. I hope you don’t mind, but I added our most recent intel...” 

She turned it over in her hand; her facial features softened at the unspoken gesture of friendship. The absence of the datapad would have made her work on the mission difficult. She wondered again whether it was time to apologize for the previous evening’s antics but after observing the flash of panic in his face, she chose wisely not to bring it up. 

“How did you know I was going to ask about Rakata Prime?” 

“Call it a hunch. The data we collected—the situation is worse than we thought. Remember that cyborg you fought in the lab?” 

“Vaguely,” Another yawn escaped, every limb in her body felt weighted by fatigue. 

“They’re creating cyborgs using ancient Rakatan tech from the Star Forge. Combine that with the fanaticism of the Revanite cult and you’ve got...” 

“An unstoppable army.” She murmured hazily. 

“A dangerous one.”

“How did you find all of this out?” She asked between yawns. 

“Messages between Darok and Revanite operatives concealed somewhere in the Republic...” 

As muddled as her mind was in the moment, this detail caught her attention. 

“Do you find it odd that both the Revanites and the Star Cabal managed to sneak operatives into the ranks of the Republic without anyone noticing?” She asked him; her eyelids were leaded and heavy. 

“I didn’t think about it...” He admitted; her eyes drifted closed. In the silence, she could hear him pondering her question. 

“When this is over, remind me to show you the data from the Black Codex...” Her voice faded as she drifted into darkness. 

 

“Evie,” There was a warm puff of air against her forehead as Theron’s voice gently cut through a dreamless, peaceful sleep. “We’re landing.” 

Her eyes fluttered open slowly. Her head was throbbing, every muscle in her body ached. She shifted her head, her cheek rubbed against something smooth, and her ear detected the faint murmur of a steady, underlying rapid beat that wasn’t part of the ship’s typical grumblings. Odd, the shipping container didn’t seem particularly pliable earlier. The scent of the room changed as well. Instead of an overpowering scent of mold, she smelled faint notes of spice, soap, and the vaguest trace of leatheris...Oh no! 

Her eyes shot open as she recalled the last moments before she drifted off to sleep. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, discussing the Revanites...Slowly, she lifted her head; her eyes drank in the scene in horror. She was curled into the remaining space between them, her head was resting on his chest, right at the base of his collar bone, her arm was draped lazily across his torso. His chin rested lightly between her hairline and her forehead. As she lifted her head, a little of the rough scruff of his beard rubbed abrasively against the delicate skin on her cheek. 

“What happened?” She asked groggily as she rubbed her face. 

“You fell asleep mid-sentence. Was I boring you?” He asked with a hint of a teasing smile. 

“On the contrary, you were positively scintilating. How long was I out?” 

“A few hours from what I can tell. I...uhhh...I nodded off too.” 

If he was uncomfortable with the way that she’d subconsciously invaded his space, he didn’t outwardly betray it. He shifted subtly and lifted his arm. Had it been curled around her waist? 

“Did I...how did we...”

“I don’t remember...” He answered slowly, his jaw muscle twitched almost imperceptibly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. When was the last time you slept?” He murmured with a thoughtful expression.

“Kafrene...I don’t sleep well anymore.” 

“I’d be happy to keep talking if you think it will help.” 

With a self-deprecating grin, he stood stiffly, then offered his hand to her and slowly pulled her up to her feet. The ship gave a shuddering lurch, knocking them both off balance. She staggered clumsily into his chest, his arms caught her by her lower back to steady her. Her eyes met his with a bashful smile that slowly faded at the look in his eyes. They were burning with intense indecision, as though they were asking her a question he was too afraid to have answered. The noise from the ship’s shuddering engines squealed to a stop. The temptation was strong again; the irresponsible urge to kiss him fired in her brain. Her eyes drifted furtively from his eyes, down to his lips, and then back to his eyes again. No, he made his objections clear the first time—as much as it pained her, she needed to accept it. 

Jakarro unleashed a fierce roar from around the corner that broke the tense silence.  
They scrambled away from each other, each breathless and red-faced. The tips of his ears were burning in the same hue as his jacket. 

“If I had seen Agent Shan, Jakarro, I would have said so.” Ceetoo-Deefour groused loudly. 

“He’s over here, Jakarro.” Evie called with a hint of a smirk when he shot her an irritated look. 

Four pairs of eyes peered around the shipping crates. Evie dipped to collect her belongings to avoid Jakarro’s curious stare. 

“What were you two doing?” Ceetoo Deefour asked shrewdly. 

Had it not been impossible, Evie could have sworn that the droid’s eyes were narrowed to slits in suspicion. Theron stumbled over his words, flustered by the directness of the question. He dropped his gaze to the floor. 

“We were uhhh...” He choked out in a shaky voice. “We were just...” 

“You appear quite flushed, Agent Shan,” The droid interrupted Theron’s rambling perceptively.

Jakarro swiveled his head between Evie and Theron. 

In all their time together, she’d never seen Theron this rattled by a question before. There was no sarcastic rebuke, no sardonic smile. She hastened to intervene end his uncharacteristic bumbling misery. 

“Thank you, Agent Shan.” She interrupted cooly with a subtle widening of her eyes to encourage Theron to follow her lead. “For the briefing you gave me. The information you put together will be quite useful during the mission. It’s been a most...instructive journey...” 

His face relaxed into the grateful expression of a drowning man who was offered a lifeline. 

“Cipher Nine, always a pleasure.” He returned with a formal nod of his head. “Let’s do this again sometime.” 

 

The mid-morning sun beat down onto the white sand with blistering heat. The jungle echoed with the shrieks and roars of creatures, while the air was perfumed with the scent of the large blossoms of the vibrant vermilion flowers. They stood under the shade of two overhanging palm fronds, each reviewing the last pieces of data from their early morning reconnaissance missions. 

“The safest route to the Temple of the Ancients is through this ravine,” Lana pointed a winding route on Evie’s datapad that for organization’s sake she’d marked with a small upper case A. 

“There’s fewer patrols, and you’ll avoid any entanglements with local tribes, although, admittedly, the route is steep. I wasn’t able to completely survey the entire path.” 

“What are options B and C?” Evie asked, noting that there was only one route marked on the map. 

She preferred to have a minimum of three routes in mind; over preparation was the mark of a good field agent. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she caught a faint smirk on Theron’s lips as though he had anticipated that she would ask the question but when she looked up to catch it, he was studiously scrutinizing his datapad. 

“There are no other viable options...” Lana began hesitantly with a furtive glance to Theron. 

“Well...” He hedged as he cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Why do I have the distinct impression that I’m not going to like what you’re going to say? Out with it,” 

She folded her arms across her chest to appear more stern than she felt.

“Do you want to tell her about the Rancor pit, or do I have the honors?” He addressed Lana with a pointed stare, she avoided his gaze. When she said nothing in return, he continued.

“Option B is a route through the Rakatan village. The path is densely populated and the natives have been working closely with the Revanites, meaning they won’t be too receptive to any visitors. In order to access the Temple, you’d have to sneak through their arena, past their champion, and through the Western entrance to the Temple...” 

Evie swallowed hard, instantly regretting her peevish impulse to punish Kaliyo by leaving her behind. 

“Jakarro has agreed to travel ahead of you and create a clearer path for you. With his help, we won’t need to rely on option B at all...” Lana hastened to reassure her. 

“What?!” Ceetoo Deefour exclaimed in shock. “Jakarro, I didn’t agree to that. Is this the talk with Agent Shan that you powered me down for?” 

Evie’s eyes shot to Theron with a questioning gaze. Was he actually interfering with her mission? He kept his eyes glued to his datapad and pretended to wipe a smudge off the screen with the sleeve his jacket. Were it not for the subtle upward sideways tilt of his mouth, he was the picture of innocence. She fought a surge of irritation. The last thing she needed was a battle hungry Wookie screaming into the jungle and telegraphing their location for all of the Revanites to hear. 

“Theron and I will monitor your progress and keep you apprised of updates from Jakarro’s ship. May the Force ever serve you.”

When Lana was nearly out of earshot, Evie fixed her eyes on Theron with a blistering stare. 

“Agent Shan, a word?” Evie called with a stern voice. “You deliberately sabotaged my portion of the mission by adding Jakarro to my roster.” 

“Sabotage is a strong word, Cipher.” 

“Oh, what would you call it then?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face.

“Padding the odds. I ran the numbers, and they’re not in your favor. Even if you manage to make it to the Temple without dying, you’ll be facing a decorated Republic Colonel and a Sith Lord on your own.“ 

“Oh, and clearly that’s something I’m incapable of handling on my own? This is another one of your misguided attempts to protect me. Let me assure you that I am perfectly capable of—“ 

“It’s not that...” 

“You’re lying,” She pointed at the tell-tale flinching jaw muscle. Self-consciously, he put his hand over it. 

“You’re right but it’s not what you think. Despite what you choose to believe, you’re not invincible. This is our best chance of capturing Darok and Arkous alive. If you die in the field due to your obstinate need to work alone, at least I’ve done my job and have ensured our plans are successful.” 

“Obstinate?!” She sputtered indignantly. “I’m not...” 

He shot her a dubious look; the argument died on her lips. She tilted her head to acknowledge the truth; he did have a point. 

“I highly doubt this is solely for the sake of the mission...” 

He shrugged eloquently with a sly half smirk and leaned toward her with a devious wink.

“I guess we’ll never know. Come back in one piece, Cipher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy fluff with a side of fluff :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! If it’s too much fluff for you, the next few chapters will be action packed.


	11. The Opportune Moment

 

He sat low in his seat with his nose pressed to the screen of his datapad. He avoided inhaling too deeply to prevent from getting a nose full of the cockpit’s unusual musky scent. He tried to focus his mind, but it kept wandering back to the day’s previous event.

_The ship shuddered; she murmured something low and soft in her sleep in response. That was all it took; he was captivated at that point, all hope of working on strategies and intel was abandoned. He set his datapad aside on the floor next to him; her back slid against his shoulder, pinning his arm until it went numb. Should he wake her up? If he was the responsible type, he wasn’t, that would have been the correct choice. After all, the rest of the crew thought that they were strangers, not two friends with an extraordinarily complicated history. If one of them walked by and caught her sleeping with him...Oooh, that sounded bad._

_Well, it didn’t sound so bad to him but in this circumstance, it was completely inappropriate. It might have been his recent trail of thoughts that activated his more reckless impulses or it might have been that he no longer had feeling in his left fingers. He surrendered to his inclination to put his arm around her. He justified the action; if he was being logical (he wasn’t) her neck would ache later if she kept sleeping at the same angle. He was doing her a favor when he lifted his arm and wrapped it oh so carefully around her shoulder, keeping in mind that the last time he tried this maneuver, he ended up with his face pressed against a duracrete wall._

_He waited with bated breath for her to stir and immediately attack him. Seconds ticked by, she unleashed a satisfied sounding sigh, similar to the one she exhaled after she organized her equipment, and her lips curled into a genuine smile in her sleep. Then, without warning, she burrowed herself further into the crook of his arm and settled her head against his chest so that a few of her stray curls tickled his chin. The tension in his muscles subsided; he fought the urge to laugh at the irony. She could be prickly, prim, with the most rigid code of conduct he’d ever seen in a person, but despite her rules, and the fact that she disliked long displays of human contact, she’d chosen him to be her honorary pillow, and he savored that choice like he had been awarded a medal._

His mouth curled up into a smile.

“Why are you smiling?” Lana’s voice broke into his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

“Uhhhhh, I wasn’t.” He did his best to school his defiant cheeks back into a more appropriate taciturn expression.

“You were.”

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: have I ever told you about Queen Lina of Onderon...”

“Oh, that droid! If I have to hear another one of his inane stories...” Lana started with an exasperated sigh before realizing that she’d let a little too much slip.

Theron let out an amused snort. So, the Sith had a pressure point after all? Interesting.

“We have a problem with plan A...” Evie’s voice crackled breathlessly through the comm.

“Problem? What problem?” Lana asked as she sat forward tensely in her seat.

“Which one of you do I thank for the sheer, impassable cliff in the way of my route to the temple?”

Lana’s head swiveled to Theron with a narrowed accusatory stare.

“You told me you ran a scan of the route.”

“I did!” He exclaimed with a defensive jump.

He punched in the command to run another geological scan into Jakarro’s system. The scan data jumped onto his screen—uh oh. The first scan malfunctioned; the stone barrier was plain to see, hundreds of meters high, and it stretched across the landscape. When Jakarro returned, they’d have a serious talk about the upkeep of his equipment.

“I don’t suppose either of you came up with a Plan C while I was tangled up in vines?”

“Plan C is attempting to fly to the temple and rappel into the courtyard without being shot to pieces by their defense turrets.”

“So you’re saying I should befriend the Rancor from Plan B?”

From her tone, he imagined that she was wrinkling her nose and lifting one eyebrow archly. His lips trembled into a small grin at the thought.

“They make very loyal pets.”

“You sound like you speak from experience. If I survive this, you’ll have to share it.”

“When you survive this, I will,” The grin widened into a full-fledged smile.

He didn’t try to hide it. Lana coughed quietly into her hand to interrupt the exchange.

“We haven’t heard from Jakarro, Agent Colspur. Is he with you?”

Evie’s comm went silent.

“No, he told me he was going to clear a path ahead of me. When I got to the wall, he was nowhere to be found. I assumed he returned to the ship...”

Theron and Lana exchanged dark glances.

“I’m almost to the Rakatan village. It’s possible that he’s waiting for me to rendezvous with him there.”

The comm line was left open. Sounds of chattering birds, and snapping branches filled the silence.

“The village is...empty...” She whispered between breaths.

Lana put her hand to her head, as though she experienced a sharp pain.

“What is it?” Theron asked with a frown.

“It could be nothing...”

“Or?”

“I sense that our friend is in grave danger.”

He was on his feet before his mind registered the action. That Lana didn’t fight him on the decision troubled him greatly.

“Give me her last known coordinates.”

 

 

He ran through the jungle, tearing through vines and palm fronds at a blistering rate.

 “How much further, Lana?” He panted as he scrambled up a steep incline of rocks.

“A few more clicks, you’re nearly there.”

He burst through the tree line, the Rakatan village was to his left, the ocean to his right, and in the middle of a large tide pool was a tall Rakatan warrior with a large staff. Beyond it, the Rancor stood stunned by the pulse of her vibroknife in its thigh. Evie was nowhere in sight. Theron kept his blaster lifted as he approached. The warrior reached into the water and pulled Evie out by the throat gasping for air. She lashed out with a weak swoop of her knife and narrowly missed. He gave her throat a punishing squeeze, then plunged her back underneath the water. Theron urged his frozen feet into a run while he fired four shots into the warrior’s back. The warrior writhed in agony, then fell face first into the water bobbing lifelessly. Evie burst to the surface of the water with a gasp, her body seized for air. He reached down and pulled her up to her feet by her shoulders.

“Theron, of all the ridiculous...your meddling is getting out of hand...” She sputtered between coughs with a strained voice that had the audacity to sound offended.

He drank in her injuries, the purple bruising around her throat, the lump on her forehead that a curtain of dripping curls hid.

“Some people would call my meddling backup.” As he spoke, he swept the hair covering her eye out of her face and settled it behind her ear.

“In the Empire, we’d call you a ‘mollycoddler.’” She gently pulled her face away from his hand with a hint of a flush to her cheeks.

“Mollycoddler?” He asked with a soft laugh. “That can’t be a real word. You’re making that up.”

“It is a word, you’ll see your name and holo included in the definition.” She said with a dismissive sniff. “For the record, I had that situation under control.”

The Rancor unleashed a mighty roar, took a massive claw, removed the vibroknife from its thigh and snapped it in half.

“What about that situation? Is that under control too?”

The Rancor charged toward them with furious snarls, snaps of its wicked jaws, and wild swings of its arms.

“You’re the resident pet expert here—any sound advice?” She asked breezily as she pulled her blaster snug against her shoulder.

“Yeah, duck!”

The Rancor brought its fist-like claws down to the earth between them; Evie and Theron rolled out of the way, they were swept up in the resounding shockwave of the impact. They flew across the arena and landed with a thud in separate directions. Theron staggered unsteadily to his feet and managed a few shots with his blaster before the Rancor gave a mighty leap into the air, and knocked him back down again, this time with a hefty collision against the nearby wall. His blasters flew out of his hands and scattered in two different directions.

“That’s it! Keep it busy,” He heard her shout in between bellowing roars.

Busy? What did it look like he was trying to do? The monster had knocked the wind out of him and he was seeing all the stars in the galaxy. He crawled on his hands and knees toward his blasters. A flash of red caught his eye, Evie slid between the legs of the Rancor, slashing at tendons with her knives as she swept through. The Rancor screeched in pain and lashed out violently. The blaster was so close, just one more stretch. Right as his fingertips brushed the blaster, the Rancor seized him by the torso, pinning his arms in its grasp. He writhed and struggled to get free to no avail.

“Toxicity 7!” He yelled with a strangled voice as the Rancor brought him closer to its fierce teeth.

His bracers fired a single dart into the Rancor’s fleshy palm. It roared with fury in response, hot air and rancid spittle covered his face. The monster’s grip loosened. Another dart flew through the air and struck the beast in the center of its black beady eye. The Rancor recoiled backward with an anguished scream; its grip loosened. He wedged his shoulder into the knuckles of one of the claws with a hard shove. Evie fired another dart, this time at the creature’s other eye. It struck home; in its agony, the monster’s claw opened, and Theron dropped with a heavy thud to the ground not far from his blasters.

The monster lashed wildly and bellowed. He didn’t stop moving until both blasters were tight in his hands. He spun around and fired two clean shots. Evie followed suit, alternating between the use of her blaster and her bracers. The Rancor staggered, drew a shuddering breath, then became enraged. Blinded by the poison in both eyes, it lashed out with its arms, casting wild blows and striking the ground three times. Theron and Evie struggled to stay on their feet. On the third blow, the Rancor scooped into the earth and hooked Evie into its grasp. It snarled as though it determined that she alone was responsible for its current misery. It snapped its jaws down with an audible click, narrowly missing Evie’s shoulder. The Rancor unhinged its jaw, prepared to taste human flesh when, Evie lunged with one of her longer knives, and stabbed the beast inside of its mouth. The blade struck true with a sickening sound of severed tendons and crunching bones. The Rancor staggered, blood oozed from the wound; it gave one last mighty roar, then, with all its strength and fury, lifted its claw and flung Evie to the ground in retaliation. A cloud of dust enveloped her, then slowly settled. She laid motionless; Theron urged his shaking legs to run.

“Lana—Agent Colspur is down...” Theron squeezed the words out of his constricted throat.

His heart was pounding in his ears. The Rancor was unsteady on its feet, wobbling this way and that until it collapsed with a ground-rattling shake to its knees. It teetered as it fought the last throws of death; he was sprinting now. Evie was out cold and laying straight in the path of the falling Rancor. He dove for her, scooped her up into his arms, activated the holotraverse function of her stealth belt moments before the Rancor collided with the ground on top of them. With a nauseating blur of color and light, the shadow of the Rancor disappeared. Theron shut his eyes, held his breath, and waited for the sensation to stop as they reappeared with a pop. They collided with the ground and rolled to a stop, in the soft sands meters away from the fallen Rancor. He scrambled over to her, pulled her onto his lap, cradled her in his arms, and started to assess her injuries.

“Evie,” His hand cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand as he frantically pushed her hair away from her face. “Can you hear me?”

She stirred with a groan; her eyes fluttered opened disoriented and confused. She winced; her eyes focused on his face, a slow half-smile crept to her lips.

“I have some constructive notes about Plan B.”

He exhaled sharply, rolled his eyes to the sky and with an exasperated laugh pulled her close to his chest into an impromptu one-armed hug. Her back went rigid against the palm of his hand then ever so slowly, she lifted her arms, and quietly wrapped them around his neck with a small squeeze. He pulled her closer still; his face was buried into the curve of her neck, his nose detected the sweet scent of lavender in her hair and the unfortunate lingering aroma of the Rancor.

“Thank the stars. For a minute, I thought you were...never mind. Are you alright?”

“No permanent damage. I think you might have saved my life.” She whispered in his ear softly.

“Admit it: that wasn’t half bad for a ‘meddling mollycoddler’.”

“Don’t sound so unbearably smug—this was your plan, after all.”

Her hands drifted from behind his neck and rested against the lapels of his jacket. She looked pensively at him, her eyes were trying to read his face with a puzzled frown. The moment was right to say...what exactly? Or maybe he shouldn’t use words. Maybe he ought to throw caution to the wind, explore her lips with his and let them say what he lacked to the courage to voice. Lana’s voice broke through their comms.

“Theron, what is your status? Is Agent Colspur alright?”

“Agent Colspur is alive; a little worse for wear but still standing. I’m fine by the way, thanks for asking.“

“Oh...what a relief,” Lana sounded shaken; her voice was strained. “You should know that Darok and Arkous know you’re here, probably all the commotion. I’ve located Jakarro. He’ll rendezvous with you shortly and is prepared to help you seize the Temple. Take them dead or alive.”

“Preferably alive, we need to question them.” Theron reminded Lana with a note of concern in his voice.

As if on cue, Jakarro burst through the tree line with a mighty roar. Theron suppressed an agonized groan; yet another missed opportunity. At this point, he thought about adopting ‘missed opportunity’ as his code name.

“Theron, I need you back on the ship. Some of the sensors aren’t working properly.” Lana buzzed off the comm, Theron heaved a heavy sigh and offered Evie an apologetic look.

“Duty calls.”

 

The mood in the safe house was heavy and somber. They stood around the data terminal, each lost in their thoughts.

“Darok and Arkous were never going to come quietly. They were never going to talk. This was the only way.” Evie interjected into the tense silence.

Lana gave a muffled snort as a response. Darok and Arkous were dead, Revan was somehow inexplicably back from the dead and ready to wreak havoc on the galaxy with his legions of followers. The mission was an unmitigated disaster.

“The news doesn’t get better,” He said looking up from his datapad with a frown.

“What do you mean?” Lana asked him. He handed her his datapad wordlessly; his eyes settled on Evie, formulating a plan in reaction to what he’d just read.

“Oh dear, I see.” The datapad dropped out of her hands and onto her lap. Evie shot him an impatient pointed stare to prompt an explanation.

“The Revanites have retaliated. Jakarro has seven death marks on his head, Lana’s been labeled a traitor to the Empire and I have officially lost my job with the SIS.”

Evie took the datapad from Lana and scanned the information in disbelief.

“We have to go into hiding,” Lana spoke calmly, clearly organizing her plan as she spoke.

“I’ll go with you,” Evie said with a resolute expression as though the matter was settled.

“No.” Theron and Lana said sharply at the same time.

“You were spared our fate. Why do you suppose that is?” Lana asked Evie quietly when it appeared she would protest their decision.

“I suppose its because the Empire and the Republic already think I’m dead.”

“Precisely. It’s in your best interest to keep it that way. Besides, who better to uncover the agents hidden within the ranks of the Empire and the Republic than the very person they no longer think of as a threat. You’ll be doing what you do best, while we work quietly from the shadows to find the Revanites next move. Once we have that information, we’ll be in touch.”

“How long will you be gone?” She steeled herself visibly for his response.

“Months, maybe even a year. However long it takes to find answers.”

“I see.” She dropped her eyes to the floor and nodded sadly. Her disappointment was strangely endearing and he felt a small tug on his heart.

“All of us should depart right away. This location may be compromised.” Lana turned abruptly on her heel to make arrangements for their departure.

“I’ll need a minute to wipe the data terminal clean,” Theron called to Lana over his shoulder.

It sounded like a lie even to his ears. In truth, he’d already wiped it clean while they were discussing their plan. He felt the keen gaze of one of Lana’s perceptive stare as she followed the trail of his eyes to Evie’s path.

“Two minutes. If you linger overlong, we’ll leave without you. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

He saw Lana repress a smile and at that moment, he knew that somehow, whether it was through observation, or through her connection to the Force that she knew. She didn’t say a word, didn’t add commentary; instead, she was true to her word and left to quietly make arrangements. Theron puzzled over whether her being privy to his innermost thoughts was a relief or a curse while he rounded the corner in search of Evie. They collided with each other with a resounding ‘oomph’.

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye,” He chided gently.

“Not exactly. I have something for you.” She pulled Karus Jan’s datapad from behind her back. “This is a copy of all the data I have about the Star Cabal and their potential connection to the Revanites. Call it a hunch but I think if you connect this data to your intel about the Revanites, it might help you find them before they find you. I want you to have it.”

“Why Agent Colspur, I do believe you care. You’re actually worried about me.” /p>

“Pffft, don’t be ridiculous. I’m no mollycoddler. I’m merely aiding—“

Whether it was the twist of her mouth as she wound up to rebuke him with sass, or the vague inkling that he might not live to seize the opportunity again, he didn’t know. All he knew was that at that precise moment, the indecision that plagued him for months temporarily vanished. His hands cupped her cheeks; he brought his lips to hers mid-sentence. She gasped in shock softly against his lips; the datapad clattered to the ground from out of her hands. He pulled his lips away. Oh no...Did he make a mistake? He opened his mouth to issue a clumsy apology when she returned his kiss with a fiery one of her own. He groaned into the kiss; the desires he’d kept hidden from her for months were poured into each desperate brush of his lips to hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers traced the hair on the nape of his neck. He was undone; his hands drifted from her cheeks and twisted their way into the bounty of her hair.

“Two minutes are up,” He heard Lana call from around the corner. They lingered breathlessly wrapped in each other’s arms, each temporarily unable to open their eyes.

“Wow...this is...wow...” He managed weakly; he tried to prevent himself from pressing a softer kiss to her lips and failed. Every nerve in his body was set ablaze.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, she rested her forehead against his with a tender smile.

“I’ve wanted to do that since Corellia,”

“Dromund Kaas.” He admitted with a rueful smile. He brushed his lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry, I have to go,”

“I know...”

“If we see each other again...” She put her fingers gently to his lips and shook her head with a bitter-sweet smile.

“When we see each other again,”

“Is that a promise?” He asked softly in a whisper that was more like a plea. She smiled at him, brushed her lips against his and whispered:

“Always,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I got distracted by writing an angsty chapter about Nathema. Focusing is hard. 
> 
> Coming up: Rishi, pirate shenanigans, Jonas Balkar meets Evie for the first time and lives to regret it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Port Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This switches back and forth between Evie and Theron’s perspectives.

It was nine months to the day of her last clash with Hunter, and the wound in her side that was inflicted by Hunter’s knife still ached as though it had happened yesterday. Her mind reviewed their final moments together in her sleep, or in the quiet moments when her work could offer her no reprieve. Today was no exception; she sat in the chilled solitary silence of the conference room, with her chin in her hand as she imputed her most recent findings into her files, in a weak attempt to block out the images and sounds that plagued her mind.

“ _You_ _think you’ve stopped us?” Hunter spat at Evie; a trail of blood oozed from her mouth and down her chin. “You’ve only prolonged your agony. We are everywhere, woven into the fabric of your meaningless lives. There is no escape from us; we will consume every living being in the universe until we rule it all, or until none are left.”_

With the last of her vitriol spilled, Hunter succumbed to her wounds and perished. The woman was gone; the words were not. It was more than a threat, more ominous in the vaguely malicious self-righteousness of it—these were the dying words of a zealot who preached a prophecy foreshadowing of events that were yet to pass—Evie was certain of it.

In the four months that passed since Revan’s return, she rededicated herself into her investigation surrounding the missing members of the Star Cabal and their potential connection to the Revanites. She meticulously recorded every shred of information she could find, data fragments, communications, financial records. There were five unlisted members of the Star Cabal, members who wisely, kept their names out of the Black Codex and their hands unsullied by the machinations of the group. Two had been swiftly dealt with by Keeper’s diligent Bounty Hunters in the first purge. The other three eluded capture. Evie assumed the responsibility for them while the Empire had its attentions firmly set on the war effort.

Two members had been relatively easy to ensnare via blackmail. Both were prominent members of Republic and Imperial society, a Moff of some renowned and a mid-level up-and-coming senator. Their financial records revealed a series of large credit payments, in small enough increments as to not arouse suspicion from the banks, but large enough in sum that the amount was substantial. The payments originated from the same bank that financed Hunter’s and other prominent member’s activities. The same small payments appeared in the accounts belonging to the families of Darth Arkous and Colonel Darok. It was this, coupled with the codes she found on the holonet that sealed her opinion that the two groups were inextricably linked.

Moreover, they were currently in route to Port Nowhere to meet with an informant who claimed that the identity of the third missing Star Cabal member was a prominent member of the Republic SIS.

There was a soft knock at the conference room door. Evie blinked and struggled to focus her bleary eyes.

“Beg your pardon, Sir. Will we be conducting our usual training exercises today?” Temple’s voice called softly with a note of reproach through the door.

Evie looked at her timepiece and stood stiffly from her seat. Stars, she’d wasted half the day.

“Yes, I’ll be right there Temple.” Evie called, closing each one of the files on her datapad.

Her finger lingered over one file, entitled ‘For Theron.’ Her spirits dipped; with each passing day, she was losing hope. She’d heard nothing from comrades, no word of their safety. For all she knew, they could be in the hands of Revanite assassins. A solemn chill raced down her spine. What if they were already dead? Evie shook her head. No, that type of thinking was beneath her. Until the facts were plain writing on the wall for her to see, she would choose to believe that they were alive, that their reunion was possible and that her hard work rooting out the conspiracy would contribute to their success. She slid added her most recent discoveries into Theron’s file, carefully encoded it, then left the room to join Temple for their weekly lesson.

Sparring with Temple was a way for her to clear her mind. Often she did her best thinking while they were exchanging blows or training with knives. Sometimes, they would combine tactical training with other skills. Today, since they were en route to meet with an informant at Port Nowhere, Evie thought it best for them to discuss interrogation methods and strategies. Evie told herself that the lessons were purely for practical reasons. Having another hand on her ship skilled with a sniper rifle was useful. In truth, once Raina (she mentally referred to her by her given name but outwardly only addressed her as Temple) joined her crew, she became more of a responsibility than a liability. Evie felt a strange sort of affection for her and adopted her as the younger sister she never had but always secretly wanted. Of course, she never told Temple any of this rubbish. Thoughts, emotions, affections were all liabilities and made even the strongest agent weak. Evie, Temple, and Lokin all rigidly adhered to the Imperial code of conduct which placed a very strict boundary about outwardly expressing such tawdry sentiments.

They started their training with sparring. Temple recently graduated from physical brawling to the use of knives in close combat situations. Kaliyo was most eager to watch the day’s proceedings. She sat with her chin in her hands, and her elbows on her knees, and gave Evie a sardonic waggle of her fingers.

“Drinks on you if she has you pinned in two minutes flat, otherwise the drinks are on me,” Kaliyo eyed the cuticles of her nails with a casual air. Evie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Kaliyo was up to something but she didn’t have the vaguest notion as to what she might have up her sleeve.

“That seems unusually fair, you have a deal.” Evie said with a confident smile. It wouldn’t be a problem. Temple was good but she still had much to learn.

“While we’re sparring today, I thought we could talk more about interrogation methods,” Evie suggested to Temple as they each stretched.

They usually trained in this method; hand-to-hand combat was routine for Evie. Adding the additional challenge of instruction gave her bored mind a much-needed jolt of stimulation.

“Sir,” Temple began with an unusually hesitant expression. “I had a different topic in mind. It’s a personal question...”

They launched into their first bout, a physical match with no weapons in hand to serve as a warm-up.

“I’m not sure how I can be of service, but I’ll try.”

Evie blocked to short jabs to her face. Temple was fighting aggressively, a lesson they’d work on together in the previous week.

“How do you approach seduction, Sir?” Evie dodged two blows and ducked a third with a bewildered stare, uncertain she’d heard Temple correctly.

“I’m not sure I understand the question, Temple. What are you asking me?” Evie clarified.

She’d relished the mentor role until this moment. There were some questions she’d rather hoped not to answer.

“What I mean is, Cipher agents are meant to be masters of the art of seduction. I read the chapter in the manual. Don’t you find that difficult? Lying to a person, toying with their emotions, only to break their heart. Has that ever become complicated for you, Sir? Have you ever broken someone’s heart in the line of duty?”

“Once. I didn’t relish the feeling. Some agents do. I prefer to use the seduction method as a last resort. There are plenty of creative ways to coax information from an asset. In most cases, I’ve found that the most direct approach is best...” Evie paused and swallowed hard.

Their conversation was an echo; the memory of a conversation with Theron about his preferred method of dealing with people made her heart twist in a strange direction. There were lots of these echos, little moments that reminded her of him in some fashion that try as she did, she could not push away or bury.

“What about love, Sir?” The question came quietly, in between sharp breaths as they each selected a pair of practice batons.

“What about it?”

They crossed batons, striking at each other with furious whacks.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question stunned her; with a decisive hit, Temple knocked a baton out of Evie’s right hand. To compensate, Evie dove out of the way of another of Temple’s swipe and scrambled back up to her feet. They were treading on uneven ground—she needed to answer cautiously.

“Love is a dangerous word to throw around in our line of work,” There; the answer was vague but not entirely untrue. “That choice can end tragically for both parties. I’ve made it a rule to remain as unencumbered by it as I can. Logic and a cool head win the game.”

“And if it wasn’t so much a choice as it was the feeling that was discovered seemingly out of the blue, for instance for a friend, a colleague...or a Republic spy...”

“What did you just say?” Evie asked not willing to trust her ears.

Temple’s words astounded her, cut her to the quick with their peculiar way of accessing her innermost thoughts. She lowered her remaining baton, took a step toward Temple to demand an explanation, and walked straight into the trap. She ought to have seen it; the wide, toothy smile from Kaliyo, the secret hand gestures between the two of them, the knowing glances. Temple hooked her baton beneath Evie’s legs and swept her to the floor, with the end of the baton pointed triumphantly at her throat. She blinked up at Temple with a mixture of irritation at herself for having been duped, and appreciation for Temple’s cunning, duplicitous nature. Kaliyo burst into peels of delighted laughter and clapped her hands.

“I’m sorry, Sir. The crew put me up to it.” Temple offered her a hand to help her off the floor. “They wanted you to buy the drinks tonight.”

She blinked at the ceiling in stunned silence. What an utter and complete humiliation. Not only did her protégée best her in physical combat, but it appeared that her entire crew was painfully aware of her...distracted, weak-minded behavior and was willing to exploit it to their advantage. She’d been so careful not to let it show, save for the fleeting moments that Kaliyo inadvertently witnessed on Manaan. So much for a logical, cool head—she wasn’t even able to heed her advice.

“No need to apologize, Temple. Your performance was extraordinarily convincing.” She stood up with a groan, massaging her aching back and nursing her wounded ego.

“The drinks are on me tonight.”

 

 

The Cantina was dark lit in the shades of neon puce and vibrant pinks of the neon signs. Patrons stuck to the shadows carefully avoiding the feature identifying light. Some spoke in hushed tones, others were more blatant, striking nefarious deals with a smack of their palms or a heavy swig of their Ales. They sat in a booth on the outskirts of the room, each nursing their drinks. A large wide-brimmed hat obscured his face, a thick beard, most of it legitimately his added to the ensemble. To his watchers, he would be unrecognizable, just another faceless reprobate smuggler in search of a job and the fortunes that Port Nowhere provided. To complete the character he added to it a flask of jet juice from which he took copious swigs; the alcohol burned its way down to his stomach and oozed from his pores. Perfect! He looked and smelled the part.

His implants beeped with an alert. According to the manifests, the Classified (Evie’s affectionate nickname for her cunning little cruiser) was set to land in docking bay C-4. His eyes did a precautionary sweep of the cantina. There was no sign of his five watchers. They always arranged themselves in pairs and were ever-present. They’d even sent a team to follow him into the fresher at one point. He had to hand it to them; they were nothing if not thorough. Still, they were no match for his disguise, and tonight, he would plant the seed that would bring his time with his silent stalkers to a close.

“Remind me again why you need me to do this...” Jonas asked between sips of his drink; his voice was nearly imperceptible over the din of the cantina.

“The Revanites can’t know about Cipher Nine’s arrival on Rishi. For the sake of the cover we’ve spent the last two months building, it has to look organic. Your job is to keep her occupied while I plant the tracker—she can’t come back to the ship until the bug is planted. I need time to make it look obvious that someone’s been aboard...”

“Don’t you want to be the one to keep her occupied? I’ll bet you can come up with one or two ways to do it...”

Theron favored Jonas with an irritated look over the rim of his cup as he took a long, very telling drink. In truth, he could think of more than two ways to keep her occupied, but Jonas didn’t need to know that. One month into their exile, Lana and Theron quickly realized they needed an outsider to assist in their investigation—someone with a face the Revanites didn’t recognize. They needed someone discreet, whose presence on Rishi wouldn’t look out of place. Lana’s contacts in the Sith Empire were out of the question, Evie was under constant surveillance. In short, Theron reached out to Balkar as a last resort because he was the only person from the SIS that he could trust. Theron was starting to regret it.

“I’ve told you, it’s not like that. She’s...a...friend?”

His voice trailed off upward into a distracted question; his breath caught in his chest. Across the cantina, he caught a glimpse of Evie’s glorious moniker, the flaming hair that just four months prior he’d twisted his fingers through to accompany the pulse racing kiss that had been on his mind non-stop since it happened. There-in was the heart of his problem; she dominated his thoughts so easily. One glimpse of her and he was ready to abandon the mission, sweep her up into his arms, and trail his lips down the devastatingly low neck-line of her blouse. Which, as he considered it further, was a completely inappropriate train of thought given the current nebulous state of their relationship.

Jonas let out a soft low whistle.

“That’s Cipher Nine?” Jonas asked with a wicked, wide-eyed smile of disbelief. “The holos don’t do her justice. You didn’t tell me she’s out of the galaxy gorgeous—she’s way out of your league, Shan.”

Theron bit back a snarky remark with another swill of jet juice. His parting memory of their kiss before their four-month separation was special. The last thing he wanted to do was share it with Jonas Balkar.

“Let’s go over the plan,” Theron switched subjects testily which provoked an irritating smirk from his friend’s lips.

Evie and her crew were fighting the crowd in the cantina in search of a table. Vector whispered something in her ear and provoked a short carefree laugh. He tore his gaze away and focused back on Jonas, who was busy devouring Evie with his eyes. Theron reached over and snapped his fingers in front of Jonas’ eyes with an irritated glower.

“Right, the plan. She thinks she’s here to meet with an informant about that group you two were chasing...what were they called again?”

“The Star Cabal...” Theron reminded him between clenched teeth. “I’m starting to regret including you in this mission.”

“My we’re testy tonight. What’s got your blaster in a knot?”

“You’re not paying attention to the mission!” Theron hissed with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, I’ve got my eye on the mission. Unlike you, I’m capable of mixing business with pleasure. I remember the plan—we don’t need to go over it again for the tenth time. Although, I do have two questions...”

“Alright, shoot.”

“What’s her favorite drink?”

“Mantellian Brandy.” The answer came out automatically; Jonas suppressed a smile. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought I’d start things off by buying her a drink.”

He was vaguely uncomfortable with the idea but couldn’t put his finger on why. He let it slide.

“What’s the second question?”

“Since you started working with her, you’ve thrown your career away twice, grown a depression beard twice, not a good look for you by the way, and you’re wound so tightly right now that you’re about to grind your teeth into your skull.”

Jonas fixed him with an appraising stare. Theron started to sweat, sensing that he lost control of the conversation.

“What’s your point?”

“You’re sure that all you feel for her is friendship?”

Theron choked on a swig of jet juice and covered up his discomfort with a raspy cough.

“Absolutely sure,”

He forced a painful smile to his face to cover up the lie. Jonas’ eyes scrutinized his features.

“Good. Then you won’t mind if I show her a little of the Balkar method tonight.”

‘The Balkar method’ was Jonas’ seduction method, which he claimed was 95% effective. Theron’s mouth dropped open to protest, but all that came out was a high pitched sort of whine before he managed to squeeze out a painful ‘no.’

Jonas smiled with a satisfied grin; Theron felt vaguely nauseated and light-headed. He persuaded himself that it was from the jet juice and not the thought of Evie being subjected to the Balkar method. He felt a twinge of something he couldn’t name. Was it guilt? Yes, a little of that. Evie didn’t deserve the company of Jonas Balkar on his worst behavior though he knew she could and probably would put him in his place.

“So, are you going to do your part of the mission, or are you just going to sit here brooding the whole time?”

“What?” Theron asked with a confused shake of his head as he stumbled out of his reverie.

“The mission, Shan. Are you going to...”

“Right, the mission. Look, maybe go easy on the charm. You may not have to work with her again, but I do. Usually, when they end up hating you, they somehow end up hating me by default. Also, I don’t think your usual methods are going to work with this one.”

Jonas touched his chest as though he’d been mortally wounded.

“You doubt my abilities?” Jonas leaned forward with a sinister smirk. “I’ll leave my comm on; let me show you how a professional works. You might pick up a thing or two.”

Theron forced himself out of the booth, unable to take Jonas’ smug demeanor any longer. For good measure, he forced himself to sway unsteadily, to blend in with the increasingly inebriated crowd. He kept his eyes on the ground, unable to bear the thought of looking back.

 

He was crouched by the control panel of the ship’s loading ramp when his comm reactivated. He inserted his data spike and tried to keep his mind on cracking the code to bypass the ship’s security system.

“Contact. She’s gotten the message with the drink and is inbound. Thanks for the tip about the Brandy.” Jonas murmured into his comm.

Theron cringed, and his brows pulled down into a dour expression that he caught in the ship’s silver reflective panels. The loading ramp hissed and with an exhalation of steam, slowly revealed the inner belly of the ship.

“I’m in. Buy me fifteen minutes.”

“It’ll take me more than fifteen minutes just to count all those freckles. Think my lips can find them all?”

“Think you can show her more respect than that?” Theron snapped back angrily.

He stole a glance around the loading bay; it was empty, no incoming ships, no lingering watchers. He slipped up the ramp and into the ship, navigating the corridors from memory.

Jonas didn’t respond to Theron’s spark of temper, and Theron took a moment to collect his thoughts. Jonas was trying to get a rise out of him, and Theron was both ashamed and surprised that it was working. He pushed the thought of seeing Jonas with his lips anywhere near Evie’s freckles and put his mind to work on the task at hand.

He slipped into the ship’s cockpit to locate the control console.

“You must be the legendary Cipher Nine,” Jonas was smooth; through the comm, Theron thought he heard the brush of his lips against her hand. “Jonas Balkar, Republic SIS. Theron Shan’s spoke quite highly about you, but it appears that he neglected to mention your beauty.”

“A little heavy-handed, don’t you think?” Theron muttered in return to Jonas just loudly enough to make his irritation known. He heard Jonas snort in response.

“Please, Mr. Balkar—your flattery isn’t necessary. Though I wasn’t aware that you knew Agent Shan.”

“Oh yes, he’s talks about you all the time. In fact, he sends his regards,”

There was a very pregnant pause before she spoke hesitantly again.

“You’ve spoken with him recently?”

“Yes, in fact, he was the one that suggested that I talk to you...”

“Oh, I see. How...How is he? Is he...well?”

It might have been his imagination, but as he pulled apart the star map console and began to fuss with the wiring, he imagined that she sounded disappointed that he hadn’t been in contact. He felt a small surge of hope for the first time that evening.

“You didn’t agree to meet me here because you wanted me to talk about Theron all night,” Jonas said with a warmth in his voice that immediately torpedoed the faint glimmer of happiness he felt.

“No, that’s not exactly what I had in mind,”

The response was coy; he imagined she said it with that hint of a smile that made his knees weak. He nearly snipped the wrong wire as he attached the listening device.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Information, Mr. Balkar. I’m here for the information you promised me.”

“Call me Jonas,”

Oh yes, the Balkar method was in full force. He heard her laugh softly in a tittering sort of way that he’d never heard before. Surely, it wasn’t that easy? It’d taken him a week to earn her trust enough to call her by her first name.

“Meeava Fith,” She responded with an audible smile.

Theron burst out laughing with a surge of affection for her as he slid the star map console closed. She was wise to Jonas’ game; the name she offered him the name of her cover from Manaan. He left two of the panel screws loose to call attention to the fact that it was tampered with, then moved on to leave other subtle clues of his presence. He walked first into the main sitting area. Everything was as he remembered it. At the moment he was standing in the exact location when she’d swept into the room in that blue gown that clung to her every curve and occasionally made appearances in his dreams.

“Meeava, that’s a lovely name. What are you doing later tonight?” Jonas asked in a low smarmy voice that made his skin crawl.

Theron walked over to the wet bar and with a frustrated sigh, pulled off the stopper of the Whiskey decanter. He left it carelessly on the wet bar and moved on to the next room, his ears sharply awaited her answer.

“It depends on what kind of information you offer me, Mr. Balkar.”

Theron heard the snap of a datacard against the grainy wood of the cantina table.

“Intercepted messages between SIS agents and known members of the Star Cabal.”

“I don’t need messages, Mr. Balkar. I need names.”

Theron caught wind of her tone and froze. He thought, wrongly, that she’d accept the datacard without questioning the content. Theron smacked himself in the forehead and quickened his pace. Of course, she didn’t take the bait. Under ordinary circumstances, he might have admired her wit, but now, she was dangerously close to figuring out their ruse.

“Alright, you caught me,” Jonas admitted with a laugh. “Would you believe that I just wanted to meet one of the most legendary Imperial operatives of all time?”

There was a brief moment of silence; Theron envisioned that she was leaning back in her seat with her head tilted to the side, carefully considering her opponent and her next move.

“Rather an elaborate ruse to earn an introduction...” Her voice was low, and smooth tinged with suspicion but molded into a dulcet purr.

“The bug is planted, Jonas. Make your excuses and get out of there before she figures it out.” Theron murmured into his comm as he walked at a clipped pace out of the hangar bay.

“No,” Jonas murmured into the comm.

“No. What do you mean no?” Theron hissed into the comm. He pushed his pace faster, not bothering to maintain his cover.

“In my opinion, you’re worth the effort. Though, full disclosure, I’m here on behalf of the SIS. Based on your file, and from what Theron’s told me, I think you’d make an invaluable asset to the agency. I’m here to recruit you...”

Theron skidded to a halt; he covered his mouth in horror.

“You don’t want to do that Jonas—abort the mission. Abort, abort, abort.”

If he knew Evie, and he liked to think that he did, this was a critical misstep on Jonas’ part. There was nothing that stoked the fire of her rage like the offer of recruitment from the SIS.

He slowed his pace to a more casual walk around the corner to the cantina entrance; he caught sight of two of his watchers. Kriff! Jonas was about to walk straight into a minefield, and he could do nothing to prevent it. He’d have to go around to the back entrance and hope that his watchers wouldn’t notice.

“I think, Jonas, that your proposal requires more persuasion...” The volume of the comm increased—she was leaning forward to whisper in Jonas’ ear.

“What did you have in mind?” Jonas asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Meet me in that supply closet in about five minutes while I settle our bill and I’ll show you.”

Theron’s mouth dropped opened, and his back hit the nearby wall like he was kicked in the gut. Maybe she preferred the Balkar type? Or maybe she wasn’t as interested in him as he initially thought. After the way that she’d kissed him, he thought...well, it didn’t matter what he thought. The realization stung, but he did not fault her for it.

“Don’t wait up for me, Shan. I’ll contact you in the morning.” Jonas said with a cheery whistle as he cut the comm as Theron entered the cantina unseen from the back entrance.

He observed from the shadows as Evie settled the bill, then, made a nearly slight gesture with her hand. He frowned and traced the direction of the motion. From her table, he saw Kaliyo and another younger woman he didn’t recognize stand abruptly and move toward the bar. Curious about the change in demeanor, Theron adjusted the frequency of his implants to listen in on the conversation.

“We could knee cap him, that’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget,” Kaliyo suggested with a menacing grin.

“We’re not going to hurt him, are we, Sir? Wouldn’t that violate your ethical code regarding a non-combatant?”

“We’re not going to hurt him, Temple. He’s an over-confident, self-absorbed presumptuous buffoon but he doesn’t deserve to be crippled for life. Once the coma gas has fully kicked in, I know just what to do with him. Follow me.”

 

Five minutes later, Theron cautiously approached the supply closet with his blaster drawn in precaution. He pushed the control panel; the door slid open to reveal Jonas Balkar, bound and gagged wearing nothing except his kit, a thin strip of space tape, and a piece of flimsi strapped to his chest. Balkar gave a muffled plea for Theron to free him from his bonds. Instead, he holstered his blaster and tugged the flimsi off of Jonas’ chest none-too-gently. The elegant handwriting read:

“To the SIS:

Next time you want to recruit me, send your best,

Regards,

Cipher Nine”

Theron bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling while he ripped the space tape off of Jonas’ mouth. He went to work cutting Jonas hands and feet free from their bonds.

“Well, well. This is a pleasant change,” He remarked in an off handed voice, relieved that for once he was not the one lying in some unknown location in nothing but his underwear. He stood back to savor the victory of Jonas having a taste of his own medicine.

“They stole my clothes and hid them somewhere. Did you plant the device?”

Theron retrieved the neatly folded bundled roll; he noticed with crisp creases—very generous of her.

“Yes, with any luck, she’ll have already found it and is currently tracing it to Rishi.” He couldn’t resist the urge to needle him; it was rare that Jonas, the ultimate pranks man, was bested at his own game. “So...what did you learn from this mistake?”

To his surprise, Jonas smiled at him ruefully and took a wobbly seat, still feeling the effects of the coma gas. Theron took a seat across from him on a nearby crate of cleaning supplies.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Jonas said with a hint of smile trembling on his lips. “I wanted to see why my friend, Theron-work-a-holic-dedicated-to the Republic-Shan would risk his entire career for an Imp he claims is ‘just a friend.’ So, I pulled out the Balkar charm to conduct a science experiment to see what makes her so unique,”

“You’re telling me that your flirting with her was for my benefit?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I wanted to see what you’d do,”

“Face it, she out smarted you and now you’re making up a story to protect your ego.”

“Oh, this has nothing to do with my ego. The real Meeava and I have been happily dating for the last six months, not that you bothered to ask me. No, no. My pretending to flirt with her was my way of getting you to admit that you’re in love with her...”

“Love?” Theron burst out with a voice that was an octave higher than its usual tone. “Where did you get that hair-brained idea?”

Jonas shot him a withering stare that lingered. Theron shifted on his crate uncomfortably; he started to ramble to fill the silence.

“What do you want me to say that I find her attractive? Okay, yes, she’s attractive. And obviously, she’s a brilliant agent and smarter than both of us put together...”

There were other attributes he wasn’t listing that he admired; her ability to look at both sides of a problem and keep a cool head. The willingness she had to sacrifice for the people she cared about, her smile, and that hair...The full force of the realization smacked him in the face with cold, hard logic.

Was he already in love with her? Sure, he’d been infatuated with her from the moment she pinned his back against that alley wall on Dromund Kaas but love...him? It wasn’t his usual style. He’d kept that part of himself compartmentalized, locked away, buried beneath his ambition and dedication to the Republic.

His facial features spread into a look of absolute horror as his eyes locked onto Jonas’ smug, all-knowing smile.

“I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s obvious, Shan. You should have seen your face when she walked in the room tonight. I thought you were going to pass out. You were furious with me when you thought I was flirting with her—don’t deny it. And during the sixth months, you thought she was dead, you were miserable. I’ve never seen you like this before. Are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Theron ran a nervous hand through his hair. She made him so flustered he could imagine how badly that conversation would go.

“Why the hell not?”

“Look, don’t rush me on this Balkar. I haven’t even had the chance to ask her out for a drink yet. Besides, I don’t think she feels the same way.”

Jonas threw back his head and laughed.

“It’s true; she’s a little hard to read—cool as a dead star. But you didn’t see the way her face lit up when I mentioned your name. Do us both a favor—when we get to Rishi, ask her to have a drink with you.” 

 

The signs of forced entry were subtle. There were the less obvious clues; large fingerprints on the reflective panels that lined her ship. That wasn’t so unusual; plenty of spacers and smugglers would admire the ship from a far. No, what caught her attention was the disruption of the stopper to her decanter of Whiskey, the two large boot prints leading to the star map.

“Sweep the ship for bugs and intruders,” She told Kaliyo with a frown as she picked up the stopper and studied it.

Kaliyo returned minutes later, holding a crude listening device.

“You were right. I found this attached to the galaxy map. The information was sent to a planet called Rishi.”

Evie took the device from Kaylio’s hand and studied it. Was this the work of the Revanites?

“Rishi?” She said distantly, “I’ve never heard of it.”

“I have. It’s a pirate planet. If you have something to hide and need a place to lie low, Rishi is the planet to do it.”

“Let’s find out who has something to hide. Set a course to Rishi,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update and that the chapter is so long!


	13. The Red Blade and the Howling Tempest Gang

The creak of rotting wood beneath her feet assailed her ears; the dock rocked and shifted with each splash of turquoise waves. In the distance, massive mountains cone-like and covered in jungle trees loomed like silent sentries. The humidity was so thick that if she wanted to, she could cut through it with one of her knives. 

“Ghastly place,” She heard Lokin mutter to himself with a disapproving ‘tut.’ 

Evie quite agreed with him. They were planetside two minutes, and she was already dripping with sweat; her hair was starting to escape her braids with wild curls that thrived and bloomed with the constant encouragement from the humidity.

“It’s perfect,” Temple breathed with a wide-eyed look of wonder at her surroundings. 

Evie fought a small smile at the innocence of the expression, the look of appreciation on her protegee’s face as she drank in all that Rishi offered. There was a time when she appreciated her travels in the same way that Temple did now; life experiences and the gained knowledge of the galaxy tempered that delight. Beneath every beautiful wonder of a planet was a seedy underbelly filled with venomous creatures waiting to be discovered. Evie motioned Lokin, Temple, and Kaliyo into a huddle. 

“Keep a sharp eye—we don’t know who planted the bug on our ship or why they want us here. We’ll need to gather supplies and search for a base of operation.”

Kaliyo pursed her lips in frustration. She was at home in Raider’s Cove. Pirates and skullduggery were her sustenance. If she had her way, Evie wouldn’t allow it, she’d roam free, wreaking havoc and stirring up sorts of mischief. They wandered the stalls of the market place; several vendors approached Kaliyo to sell her spice. She threw a cautious look over her shoulder to see if Evie was watching. When she caught sight of Evie’s furious pointed stare, she waved them away with an irritated roll of her eyes.  
As they passed a row of shipping containers, Evie’s ears detected the enthusiastic voice of a hawker. 

“Wow! The rumors were true. You’re here; you’re here.” 

A strange bird-like creature with glistening brown feathers approached and towered over her. Evie took a step back in alarm; to her right, Temple pre-emptively put her hand on the hilt of her blaster. 

“You know me?” Evie asked distantly, wondering how this creature, a Rishii, would know anything about her. 

“Oh, sure. I’ve heard you described in great detail. Great detail. You’re the Red Blade, the legendary leader of the Howling Tempest Gang, the most daring, ruthless pirates of the Gordian reach—wherever that is...” 

Evie paused and studied the Avian; she didn’t sense duplicity in his fawning, yet somehow, he invoked a cover, The Red Blade, from the beginning of her career. Where did he learn his information? She shot a suspicious glance to Kaliyo, who was one of the only number of her crew who knew the cover, and saw that even her unflappable friend shared her concern. Was it possible that the Empire lured her to Rishi because they discovered that she was alive and in possession of the Black Codex? They were the only entity that would know her former cover. 

The conversation lapsed, and she realized they were all awaiting her response. If she was being referred to as the Red Blade, she ought to, for safety’s sake, embrace her old cover and play along. 

“That’s right, what’s it to you?” She responded gruffly, tempering her Imperial accent with a less proper, more pirate-like inflection. The Rishii unleashed a bemused chuckle. 

“Just like a pirate. You’re all so touchy. You’ll fit right in here. Seems like everyone in Raider’s Cove is going on about you and all your insane adventures. Talk about your tough customers.”

She considered her next response. They needed to investigate, draw out the locals, and find out who it was that was spreading these wild rumors. She leaned toward flattery to coax him into a longer conversation. 

“Your basic, it’s very natural. You gotta name?” 

“The name’s Qaraah. My people pick up languages and stuff real easy. Some of us like to be formal. I’m more of a cantina talk kind of type. Speaking of cantinas, you want to watch for Gorro. He wants to fight you so bad it’s not even funny.” 

The plot thickened; Evie’s brows dropped into a sharp frown. She’d spent five minutes planetside, and already someone was threatening to kill her—typical. 

“Wants to fight me? What did I do?” 

“You’ll have to ask him. Considering what a big deal you are, it’s probably just for bragging rights. Gorro’s at the Blaster’s Path, local watering hole, probably washing down some Tonitran jerky with some Mantellian Fungolarger,”

Qaraah turned back to his stall to give attention to a paying customer. They arranged themselves into a quiet corner of the marketplace. 

“Someone’s trying to kill you,” Lokin pronounced as though he was the first to discover the notion. 

“Yes, I gathered as much for myself Doctor, thank you,” She returned drily; he looked offended by the notion that someone would dare to dream of assassinating her, let alone attempt it. “We should split up, find out what else the locals know, and more importantly, where they got their information,” 

“The locals won’t talk to us if we look like us,” Kaliyo said with a thoughtful expression as she eyed Evie’s crisp, white leatheris jacket. “We need to blend in; pirates only talk to other pirates.” 

It was rare that Kaliyo offered any helpful suggestions that weren’t laced with a deadly dose of sarcasm. 

“You make a fair point. We do stand out. Since you’re the expert on Rishi, take Temple with you and find us some disguises. Lokin and I will find our new base of operation. We’ll rendezvous in one hour.” 

 

Their new safe house was a ramshackle affair with four cots, holes in the floor, and a surplus of vermin scampering through the walls. It was not ideal, but more expensive lodging did not reinforce their identities as pirates. Lokin eyed his cot with a prim sniff of disdain. 

“Perhaps I ought to wait aboard the ship and keep Scorpio company while you sort out this mess,” He suggested, tempering his eagerness to escape with a mask of practicality. 

“We’re all making sacrifices, Doctor. Besides, if this Gorro is as eager to fight as they say, I may require your services.” 

Kaliyo and Temple burst through the door, each with their arms loaded with packages. 

“There wasn’t much to choose from. Most pirates come to Rishi with their own capes,”

Kaliyo tossed her three heavy bundles wrapped in flimsi. 

“Cape? What do you mean there’s a cape?” Evie demanded with a slow dawning look of horror. Her eyes darted from Kaliyo’s face to Temple’s. Each woman wore a devious grin from ear to ear. In hindsight, she ought to have sent Temple by herself to procure disguises. Kaliyo was a corrupting influence on anyone she came in contact with. Evie made a note to limit Temple’s missions with Kaliyo in the future. 

Minutes later, Evie walked out of the fresher, wearing the strangest disguise she’d ever worn—this included the time that she disguised herself as a protocol droid. 

Temple and Kaliyo burst into a fit of giggles. Even Lokin failed to suppress a bemused smile. The cape was designed for a much taller pirate, which meant that whenever she walked, fabric tripped her feet unless she walked with an intentionally wide, awkward-looking gait. The most egregiously offensive piece was the hat, a tricorner number that because the humidity made her hair more voluminous than usual, refused to sit at anything less than an acute angle unless she wore her hair loose. The finishing touch was the eye patch, which, with trembling lips, Temple settled across her eye. The eye patch made it impossible for her to judge distances. At this rate, to save herself abject humiliation, she ought to let this Gorro fellow do her a favor and strike her down to put her out of her misery. 

“Charming,” Evie snarked as she shot Kaliyo and Temple a venomous look. 

“You look positively terrifying,” Lokin lied through his teeth. “No one will suspect a thing. What’s our next play?” 

“I’m going to pay the Blaster’s Path cantina a visit. Each of you will take a corner of the city and see what the residents know. If I run into any trouble, I’ll comm.” 

 

The day was trial after trial after tribulation. Her patience was frayed to its final thread. It started with Gorro, who in his bluster and ego, got himself killed. This led her to Kai Zykken, a blithering idiot who, when pressed during questioning openly admitted to not knowing the identity of the Red Blade. From there, she went on a two-hour-long chase of a monkey-lizard, who nearly snapped her finger off with its teeth. In short, she was dripping with sweat (the pirate disguise was deceptively heavy and not designed to breathe in a tropical climate), and she had a blistering headache from the eye patch, which, after hours of use caused her to strain her eyes until they went crossed and she saw double. The last straw was Grumm, the supposed brother of Gorro, who crossed paths with her at the end of the day and end of her wits. 

“Alright folks show’s over,” Evie called out to the lingering onlookers with a brush of dirt off her gloves and a flourish of her cloak. Humiliated in defeat, Grumm dragged himself away from her feet to nurse his wounds. The crowd thinned. In the distance, she saw a hooded figure dressed in forest green armor approach at a quick clip. Now what?

Evie approached the figure with her hand tucked around the hilt of her knife; the figure motioned her to follow. Evie held her ground. 

“That’s far enough. I’ve had quite enough games for one day.” She said as she pulled her blaster from the holster and kept it trained on the back of the mysterious stranger. The woman turned and raised her hands slowly, then with a slow jerk, pulled off her hood to reveal the golden hair, and cold stare of a friend she had feared was dead. 

“Lana Beniko,” Evie said, stunned breathless with joy. 

“Pleased to see you again, Agent Colspur. I hope you’ll forgive the cloak and dagger routine.”

“All is forgiven. It’s so good to see you again. Please, call me Evie.”

A second, blurred, shadowy figure approached and for a moment, thanks to the efforts of the eyepatch, she didn’t immediately recognize who it was. She caught a familiar flash of red and black; her fingers tore the eye patch away for a closer look. Her eyes crossed and uncrossed; the outline of two figures slowly morphed into the one person she privately longed to see for four months. Theron stood with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and his head tilted to one side as he cooly studied her outlandish disguise. His eyes surveyed her from tricorner hat to boots; his teeth bit into his lower lip to prevent a smile that dimpled into the corner of his cheek. 

“You should be honored Lana; she doesn’t make that exception for just anybody.” Theron teased with a warm voice and a faint wink. “Hello, by the way,” 

“Hello, Theron,” 

It was a proper greeting, appropriate for the circumstances given that they were not alone, albeit it was more formal than what the surge of her heart demanded at the moment. 

“Is that a good hello, or a bad hello? I can never tell with you Imperial types.” 

His eyes nervously scanned her face with a hint of vulnerability at the creases of his eyes. Four months was a long separation. Even she had moments of doubt that the way that they left things before they parted would be the same when they reunited again. People change, emotions cool—her thoughts and feelings on the subject remained unchanged. Even as they stood with his olive-green eyes burning into hers, her lips tingled with the memory of each urgent brush of his lips against hers. 

“Are you really going to ask me that after the last time I saw you?” She asked with a coquettish half-smile as her eyes poured reassurance into his. 

The worried lines on his face slowly melted away into a soft smile. The tell-tale jaw muscle worked overtime as a host of words appeared on his lips then died away. 

“Point taken.” 

There was a soft cough at Theron’s back. 

Evie tore her eyes away from the scorching blaze of Theron’s eyes with a frown and beheld the irritating smile of Jonas Balkar. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t my new favorite redhead. Remember me?” 

It certainly wasn’t the strangest of all the coincidences that occurred during her absurd day. Her mind forged through the murky waters of discovery; the bug on her ship, Balkar’s wildly flirtatious behavior on Port Nowhere, the misplaced stopper of Theron’s favorite Whiskey aboard her ship, Balkar’s presence on Rishi. Of course! She ought to have known it was Theron that planted the bug based on that clue alone. No one else could have accessed her ship except the one person who was an adept slicer and had been aboard before. Her eyes went wide and snapped to Theron’s face at the realization. He offered her a smug triumphant smile in return and a faint modest shrug. 

“Agent Colspur, you remember Jonas Balkar,” Theron said by way of introduction. 

Jonas offered her his hand eagerly; she eyed it suspiciously before warily dropping her hand into his. Jonas pulled her hand up to his lips, and reverently kissed the top of her hand with his eyes fixed challengingly on Theron’s face. Theron hissed out a long aggravated sigh between clenched teeth. 

“Yes, I remember you, Mr. Balkar,” Evie began as she pulled her hand away from his with a repulsed wrinkle of her nose. 

She hastened to wipe the moisture on her hand from his lips away with the edge of her cape. “I was exposed to a little of your...charm on Point Nowhere,” 

Theron smothered a laugh with a cough; Jonas went red in the face, then quickly recovered. 

“A little of my charm, but not all it. Perhaps later I could show you the rest?”

Jonas waggled his eyebrows as her suggestively; Theron bristled visibly and opened his mouth to launch a protest. Lana coughed into her hand to intervene.

“Now that we’re all reunited, I suppose we ought to...” 

“Yes, we should probably get to it,” Theron interjected with a strangled sounding voice. 

Before she knew what was happening, Theron positioned himself between her and Jonas, gently retrieved her hand, gave it a small squeeze, and tucked it into the crook of his arm without uttering a word. It may have been her imagination or the overwhelming roar of the marketplace, but she thought, as she walked arm in arm with Theron, she heard a low chuckle at their backs, and a softly whispered “atta boy, Shan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Up next: Theron gives Evie a nickname, the team wreaks havoc on the Nova Blades, and Jonas Balkar is the world’s worst confidant.


	14. The Balkar Method

His startling revelation on Port Nowhere led to a series of increasingly awkward follow-up conversations in the days that followed with Jonas along with his coming to terms with four crucial facts. One: he was, he realized, unexpectedly in love with Evie and upon further reflection on his part, had been for some time without knowing it. Two: his uncharacteristic shyness and hesitation with her stemmed from a lack of intel. Sure, she kissed him first, then he kissed her. A kiss was not necessarily an indication of depth of feelings, particularly not for Intelligence Operatives and for the first time in his life that mattered to him. His feelings on the subject were unmistakably clear but how did she feel? Three: he probably should have sorted all this out before he kissed her (jumping into a physical relationship headlong without asking questions first was more his style of behavior, so this point was less of a revelation and more of a reminder). Which brought him to point number four: what he wanted more than anything was the luxury of time. It bothered him that Jonas bought her a drink before he’d had the opportunity or time to do so himself. It was a small wish on a long list of desires related to Evie, but it ranked at the top of the list because of what it represented—the opportunity to know her in an ordinary setting without constant interruption or imminent threat of death.

The more he thought about it, the more he understood that this is what he wanted with her from the beginning of their partnership. It was the reason he asked five questions and stored the information he gleaned away in his mental files like it was a treasure. More recently, he wondered what life would have been like if she wasn’t Cipher Nine, scourge of the Republic, and if he wasn’t Theron Shan, the SIS’ most decorated field agent. What if they met by accident one day while vacationing on Manaan as Evie and Theron instead? In that scenario, he’d have dropped everything and asked her to have a drink with him without a moment’s hesitation. It was in this spirit that he decided that his first step with her was to ignore the overwhelming impulse to revisit their kiss on Manaan and to ask her out for a drink instead. Her hand curled around his bicep and squeezed. She noticed his distant mind and was favoring him with a curious expression. Her hand drew him back to the present. 

There was nothing to panic about; the gentle pressure of her hand felt good there, as though it was the natural place for her hand to be while they were walking. He needed to relax, play it cool, stay confident—easier said than done. Theron cleared his throat while his mind grasped awkwardly at topics of conversation. The opportunity presented itself for him to ask her out for that drink right then and there. No one else was around; Jonas, it appeared was running interference to buy him time by distracting Lana. He threw a nervous glance over his shoulder to check their progress. Lana and Jonas were several meters behind them, engaged deep in conversation. Jonas looked over to Theron and gave him an encouraging triumphant fist pump. He squeezed his eyes shut with a wince—he never should have admitted his feelings to Jonas.

Her shoulder brushed his as they cleared the door to the safe house that up until this moment felt more like his prison than his residence of four months. He turned to her; she was flushed from the heat; her hair curled wildly around her face in a way that framed it. If he borrowed a play from ‘The Balkar Method’, the playbook that Jonas spent the last three days drilling into his skull, his first step was to compliment her about something about her that he found appealing. Where did he start?

She was dressed head to boot like a pirate and looked every bit the part, down to the thick line of dirt smeared across the bridge of her nose to her cheek. She looked as beautiful to him now as she did on the day that they met. How did he put that into words? The right vocabulary shyly crept to his tongue and then died as her eyes met his. Who was he kidding? ‘The Balkar Method’ wasn’t his style. Was anyone ever that direct with their feelings? He fell back on the more subtle ‘Shan Approach’—lobbing a playful verbal jab and hoping she’d throw one back in his direction. 

“LOVE the disguise. The eyepatch was a nice touch.” He knavishly tipped the brim of her hat back with his index finger. 

“This from the man who wears the same jacket wherever he goes,” She playfully swatted his hand away from her hat and continued. “My new identity didn’t leave me with many options for attire. Speaking of identities: was all this pirate nonsense your idea or Lana’s?”

She slowly peeled the eyepatch and hat off from her head with a grateful sigh of relief. The rest of her hair came tumbling free over her shoulders. His tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth as he recalled how it felt to trace his hands through it. 

“It was Lana’s idea. I tried to talk her out of it,” 

He was lying; the idea was his brainchild, born out of necessity and the desire to see how she’d react to the scenario. Her gaze narrowed to the left side of his face; his treacherous jaw muscle twitched and telegraphed his deceit. He covered his face self-consciously with the palm of his hand a fraction of a second too late. Her mouth dropped open into a scandalized wide-eyed expression; she remembered his tell.

“You monster!” She gasped out with a laugh. “Do you have any idea what it was like to deal with Kai Zykken? How could you do that to me? I almost lost my finger to a monkey-lizard.” 

She launched a mock retaliatory attack with soft pinching fingers, attacking his arms, shoulders and any other part of his upper body he wasn’t fast enough to defend. He laughed for what felt like the first time in months. 

“Ouch, okay, okay. I’ll admit it. I saw your old cover in your file and thought it had a nice ring to it. The whole thing spiraled out of control from there.” He caught her wrists with one hand to slow her attack. She paused; her eyes darted to his lips as he gently pulled her closer. “Although I like the name so much I might start calling you ‘The Red Blade’ permanently.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” 

“No, you’re right. It’s a bit of a mouthful. Should I shorten it to Blade, Red, or the?” 

“I think you should call her Red,” Jonas called from the door frame where he and Lana stood as witnesses to his shameless flirting. 

“I prefer Agent Colspur, myself,” Lana added with a pointed stare to him. 

Lana’s lips pursed in the way he’d learned that they did when she was irritated when he lacked focus, a look that he’d seen a lot of in the last four months. In contrast, Jonas was grinning from ear to ear. Theron’s wide-lipped smile instantly sobered, heat raced to the tips of his ears as he reluctantly released her wrists. Lana and Jonas weren’t meant to witness their stolen moment. He was so caught up in his excitement to see Evie again that he forgot that their time belonged to the galaxy. The room was uncomfortably warm. Theron stepped over to a nearby stone jug of water and poured himself a glass. He was about to take a drink to settle himself when Jonas caught his eye. He gave Theron a questioning stare and with his hands mimed taking a drink, before pointing at Evie’s back to ask whether or not Theron had accomplished their pre-determined mission. Theron sighed in defeat and shook his head. Jonas threw up his hands in exasperation. 

“As much as I enjoy playing pirate, I suppose you lured me to Rishi for a reason?” She slipped her cloak off her shoulders and arranged it over the back of a nearby chair.

“Yes, we’ve traced the Revanite activities to a local pirate gang called the Nova Blades. We think they’re working together but haven’t been able to discover why or what role they play.” Lana’s frustration eked into her tone. 

His eyes drifted to Evie. Her cheeks were still abnormally flushed; she was quietly fanning herself with her hand. Theron stared hard at his water glass. Without drawing attention to himself, he poured more water into his glass and handed it to her without saying a word. Her eyes met his in surprise then softened with gratitude. As he turned, Jonas caught his eye and gave him shocked but approving nod. 

“I hate to admit it,” He added with a wince, knowing that she would hear his next admission and strike. “But I haven’t been able to remotely slice the Blade’s computers.” 

She tilted her head to the right; a slow gloating grin spread her features. 

“You?” 

It was a long overdue, well-deserved jab; she’d endured many of his jokes at the expense of her slicing expertise. He savored the gleam of triumph radiating from her vibrant eyes. 

“I can’t seem to get past their security without alerting them to the breach. That’s where you come in.” 

“We can’t have any suspicion that our attack is related to the Revanite’s activities,” Lana added with her hand to her chin in thought. 

Evie nodded as she started to put together the pieces of their plan. 

“Hence, the cover. I should appear to be after the Nova Blades and the Nova Blades alone.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got it exactly. Bust up their operation, get their attention, make yourself look legitimate and then go for the throat.” 

She stood without preamble and arranged her cloak over her arm. 

“When do we start?” 

“That’s the spirit, Red,” Theron said with a grin. 

She scrunched up her nose in a way that could best be described as ‘stereotypically Imperial’ at his use of her new nickname but let him get away with it. He filed this interesting change in behavior away for later. 

“Disrupt their weapons shipments with these charges.” Lana motioned to a nearby crate. “Destroy them, and that should be enough to get their attention. Their holdings are heavily fortified. I’d recommend taking Mr. Balkar with you,” 

Jonas, to his credit, looked at Theron and appeared to hesitate his assignment. 

“I’ll go too. I could use the exercise,” Theron added in a way that sounded over-eager to his ears. 

“You know the dangers,” Lana reminded him in a low voice. “You remember what happened last time...”

They faced multiple attempts on their lives during their four-month exile. One attempt, the one that Lana was currently referring to, came close enough to ending his life that it sent him into recovery for a month. The attack left a diagonal scar across his abdomen that was still healing. 

“I do,” He looked at Evie as he spoke and attempted to mask his concern for her safety. “I’ll take the risk.”

 

They walked in the oppressive heat, wary of ambush or any of Rishi’s fierce population of pirates. Evie appeared troubled; her brows were drawn down into a sharp ‘v’. Was it the mission, something he said, or Jonas? 

“So, Red,” Jonas pipped up after they crossed out of the boundary of the city and into the heart of the jungle. ”Tell me about yourself. Got any siblings, an older sister who’s single perhaps?” 

Evie shot a tired, irritated roll of her eyes at Theron, which brought a smirk to his lips. Jonas was mining for information, though it was too early to see what the object of his game was. Credit where credit was due, Theron never thought to ask her the question. He kept his face neutral but listened intently to see whether or not she would answer. To his surprise, she did. 

“One. An older brother. He died when I was six,”

The answer was short and more than what Jonas deserved. He saw a pointed look from Jonas and realized that he lobbed the question for Theron’s benefit. 

“What happened?” Theron picked up the trail of questioning, mindful of the way that Jonas started to slow his pace to give them privacy. 

“He joined the Republic Special Forces. They never told us how it happened. It was an opp that went wrong from what little I’ve been able to find. They sent home his dog tags and a Medal of Honor,” 

Another loss to the Republic; the Colspur family had suffered greatly at their hands. 

“What was his name?” Theron struggled to swallow his guilt. 

“Luckha...what did Lana mean earlier when she said ‘you know what happened last time?’”

Ah, so that was the cause of the frown. It was a question he hoped to avoid. Was it too late to get Jonas to ask her another question to throw her off the scent? Her impatient scowl got the better of his judgment. 

“I ran into a little trouble with a Nova Blade assassin about a month ago. Got the drop on me on one of the docks with a vibroknife,” 

He hesitated, then slowly lifted the edge of his shirt to show her the vibrant Fushia colored puckered scar. Her feet stopped short as her eyes ran the length of the scar with an aghast drop of her jaw. 

“Mother of moons,” She exclaimed with a sharp inhalation of air. 

With trembling fingertips, she traipsed the line of the scar from his rib cage down to the start of his hip. He fought the urge to shiver at her touch; even an innocent brush of her fingers caused his heart to throb in his neck. Worry etched deep lines into her face as she analyzed the tears in the skin and the depth of the wound. 

“I was lucky Jonas was with me that night. Otherwise...” 

Her hand drifted away from the scar, her eyes scanned his face. 

“You’re lucky it missed your liver. Lana’s right, you shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous,” 

Now wasn’t the time to tell her that the blade knicked his liver and that it added two weeks to his recovery time. 

“You’re not worried about me, are you Red? I would hate to have to call you a mollycoddler,” 

“Call me what you like, you know I’m right about this.” 

She arranged her face into her most severe and stern expression. If she wasn’t a meter shorter, and if he didn’t know her well, he might have found her terrifying. Instead, he fought the urge to laugh. He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. 

“Do you want me to leave and let you be subjected to the full brunt of the ‘Balkar Method’?” 

“The ‘Balkar Method’? What’s that?” 

They both turned to observe Jonas’ progress. He was several centimeters behind them, perched on a rock and pretending to massage a ‘leg cramp.’ Theron knew from Jonas furtive looks that he was giving Theron room to ask Evie out for a drink. He lingered just far enough away from them to hear their conversation without looking as though he was eavesdropping. 

“It’s his method of...” Theron almost said seduction but couldn’t bring the word to his lips without wanting to choke on it. “Courtship. You’ve made quite an impression,” 

“Oh. Oh dear. That sounds ghastly,” Evie’s face twisted into a look of repulsion. “However, I’ve handled men like Mr. Balkar in the past without your help. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with him on my own,”

“I’m sure you are,” He quipped with a side-ways grin. “Is now a good time to remind you about the Rancor you handled ‘on your own’ from Rakata Prime or do you want me to wait? Face it, Red—you need me,” 

She let out a frustrated Imperial ‘tut’ with a scornful look at his mention of the second time in their partnership that he saved her life. 

“Very well. If you’re going to throw your life away, I won’t argue the point any longer. Don’t expect me to intervene if you get yourself into trouble,” 

“As I bleed out, I’ll even give you the opportunity to say ‘I told you so’ for free. Deal?” 

“Deal. So what exactly does the ‘Balkar Method’ entail?” 

“Poetry; mostly poorly written sonnets riddled with spelling errors. A few compliments here and there. If you survive the poetry, you might even earn a nice dinner on Nar Shaddaa. You know, the standard fare,” 

“Standard fare? Are you saying that all men have a ‘Method’?” 

They slipped easily into the rhythm of their comfortable banter, each of them vying for the upper hand without a sense of competition. He didn’t recognize that she had backed him into a dangerous corner until it was too late. 

“Most do,” 

“I see. And what’s your ‘Method?’ Is there poetry involved?”

There was nothing he could do to escape. He walked right into the oldest interrogation method in the Intelligence handbook. Wild panic rampaged across his tongue and tied it into knots. His pulse started to race; his eyes darted to Jonas, who was miming that this was the perfect opportunity for him to ask her out for a drink. 

“I uhhhh....” He choked out a laugh and dropped his chin to his chest, unable to meet the steadiness of her gaze. “Not exactly,” 

“Not exactly? So you’re saying there is some poetry involved?” 

“There might be a holomessage or two. But there wouldn’t be poetry. I need you to delete that idea from your brain right now.” 

“No, I don’t think I will,”

Did she know? She was a master of interrogation, capable of reading a person’s tells and exploiting them to her benefit. Her face was a mask of seriousness save for the twinkling gleam in her eye that appeared when she knew she had the upper hand. His chest tightened, his posture went straight. He took a deep breath; it was now or never. 

“If there is a method, and I can neither confirm nor deny that there is one, I’d start with asking that person out for a drink,” 

It was right on the tip of his tongue. His finger was on the metaphorical trigger; all he had to do was pull. 

“You did say once that you preferred a more direct approach,” 

“That’s right, I did say that—I thought you weren’t listening. Speaking of drinks, Evie, I was wondering...uhhhh...I...” His body short circuited, his mind drew a tidy blank. Wondering what? Get a grip Theron! A tree branch snapped in the distance. Evie dropped to a crouch and motioned for him to do the same. Her smile dropped, her face became rigid with focus.

“We’re here,” She whispered as she pushed her way through the vines and branches into a small clearing. Theron followed close behind with his blaster at the ready. 

The Nova Blade camp bustled with activity. Pirates roamed everywhere, hauling shipments of weapons caches off of large ships on the docks. “I’ll go first and clear us a path. You two be ready to set the charges,” She whispered; her finger activated her stealth belt and in the next moment she was gone. Theron felt the clap of a large hand on his shoulder. 

“That was a tragedy,” Jonas spoke in a quiet pitying voice. “It was like watching a freighter explode during take-off. I couldn’t tear my eyes away,” 

“I know,” Theron said with a sullen voice. “It was a complete disaster,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fluffier than I originally intended. Sorry! 
> 
> Up next: Theron is still a disaster, Evie and Theron go after the Nova Blade slave camps, an assassin retaliates. 
> 
> PS-If you’re interested (you’re probably not) I take prompts. If there’s something you’d be interested in seeing in the story, leave me a comment or find me on Tumblr: starknstarwars. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	15. Five Questions

They stood with their blasters drawn; sweat beaded across his brow. His eyes darted from Jonas, who kneeled on the black sand with his hands behind his head, to Evie, whose face was grim with determination. He saw the wheels of her mind working, knitting together a new plan from the shambles of their current one. Acrid dark smoke filled the air. In the distance, the sounds of the crackling fires of destroyed munitions caches burned with furious bellowing yellow flames. 

“The way I see it, there’s one way this ends,” Evie said with a calm fierceness that was logical with an icy, threatening vein. 

“Yeah, it ends with your friend’s brains over all over the ground and the two of you bleeding out in the jungle for the beasties to feed on,” The pirate snarled in return with the rough accent of a man who’d known crime from the cradle. 

“Is there a scenario with less blood in it?” Jonas inquired with a flinch as the pirate pushed the barrel of his blaster deeper into Jonas’ temple in retaliation. 

“Either you drop your weapon and let our friend go, or I’ll send you to give a message to Margok missing your right hand,” 

The pirate was an amateur at this game. Theron clocked the tremor in the man’s hand, the desperation in his eyes. Whatever shrewd game Evie was playing was working. 

“You’ve heard of the Howling Tempests and what the gang is capable of. Meet their leader—the Red Blade. She’s wanted in thirteen star systems for the known murders of 212 men, women, and children. And those are the ones we know about. Do you want to test her patience?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the faint upward curl of her lips in appreciation for his dramatic embellishment. Unable to resist the urge, he gave her the faintest of winks. 

“Look Blade; I don’t want any trouble. How about we put down our weapons and talk,” The pirate asked with a shaken voice. 

“You first. Drop your weapon on the ground and kick it our direction. Then we’ll talk,” 

She wasn’t buying it; good. A quick scan from his implants revealed the man was carrying a second blaster in a holster hidden inside his boot. 

Theron gave a slight twist of his head; the movement attracted her attention. Her eyes met his; he widened his gaze and directed his stare down to the side of his blaster. With the tip of his index finger, he tapped against the housing of the blaster twice to warn her of the presence of the second weapon. She tilted her head to the right, an indication that his message was received. 

It happened in a blur; Evie kicked out her boot, spraying the thick grainy black Rishi sand up and into the pirate’s face. The pirate screamed in agony, then with blinded eyes fished around in his boot to pull his second weapon. Theron dove for Jonas to pull him out of the line of fire right as the pirate retrieved his smaller blaster. The pirate fired one shot, it bounced off a metal crate and rebounded into a nearby palm. The man squinted, then took aim level with Jonas’ spine. Theron reacted, pushed Jonas back into the sand, and prepared to take the full impact of the blast. 

There was a flash of silver, an abject scream of terror and pain, then quiet uncontrolled whimpering. Theron blinked; his eyes immediately shot to Evie in concern. Was she wounded? No, on the contrary. She was an awe-inspiring sight to behold. She stood glowering over the pirate, her royal blue cape and fiery hair swept up by the righteous indignation of the wind. With a hint of a growl, she rolled the pirate onto his back, to reveal the man clutching his right hand with a blade sticking out of it. Her boot landed on the man’s sternum with a thud. 

“You didn’t listen,” She hissed in a menacing voice that was a tone darker than her usual lilt. The Imperial cadence was gone, replaced by the gruffest sounding pirate accent she could muster. “If you do as I say, you can keep your hand and your life. Agreed?” 

“I’ll do whatever you say, Blade—I swear. Just don’t eat me!” 

“Eat you?” 

This rattled her composure, she broke character long enough to shoot Theron a bewildered expression. Oops! He forgot he added that to her cover story. He blanched then pointed at Jonas to throw the guilt on him. 

“I’m not going to eat you unless you fail to do what I say. I want you to take a message to your leader, Margok. Tell him the Red Blade is coming for him...” She lifted her boot off of the pirate’s chest. He hurried away from her with a crab-like stance, then scrambled to his feet and took off running into the jungle to deliver his message. Evie holstered her blaster and clapped the dirt off of her gloves. 

“Wow,” Theron breathed to himself, captivated by her remarkable performance. “That was incredible,”

“I think the word you were looking for was terrifying.” Jonas stood aghast with an open mouth, a mixture of admiration and dread on his face. 

His eyes swiveled from Theron’s besotted face to Evie and back. Jonas shook his head and clapped Theron on the back; he awoke from his trance-like state with a start. 

“When I was captured I overheard that pirate having an interesting conversation about their supply line,” Jonas motioned to a data terminal in the distance. “We should go take a look and see what’s been carelessly left behind,” 

 

Theron leaned toward the data terminal, and re-read the shipping manifest again, unable to believe what he was reading. Behind him, Evie and Jonas were deep in a thoughtful conversation. 

“I’ve found something,” His voice cracked; the weight of the discovery stuck to his throat like sand. 

Evie was at his side in an instant; she rested her hand against his shoulder to steady herself and leaned over to see the screen more clearly. The color drained from her face.

“What did you find?” Jonas asked, his bright eyes contained a merry twinkle, as they called attention to the way that Evie’s hand lingered on his shoulder. 

“I intercepted some chatter about a slave camp—well it’s more like a slave island. Basically, anyone in Raider’s cove who doesn’t give the Nova Blades a slice of their action gets locked away. Some get put into hazardous labor like mining, but most are sold as slaves to visitors from off-world. It’s a lucrative business for the Blades,” 

“I’m not sure how we or if we can help them,” Jonas interjected solemnly. “That might jeopardize the mission,” 

“What do you want to do, Red?” Theron asked Evie, with his memories of her history with the Colossus camp on Dromund Kaas fresh in his mind. 

“What I want to do, and what I’ve been tasked to do don’t currently intersect,” She confessed with a bitter smile and another hard look at the screen. “We’re here to discover more about the Revanites. We need to keep the mission on course,” 

Her response was flat, burndened with the weight of heavy guilt. 

“I know you don’t believe that. We can help them, together, ” He offered quietly.

“You’re willing to risk the mission—everything you’ve sacrificed for the past four months to help me free these people?”

“Always,” 

 

“There’s not enough room for all three of us,” Jonas observed with a fiendish gleam in his eye. 

They stood in a semi-circle measuring the diameter of the narrow crate and each grappling with the implications. Theron’s mind wandered into dangerous territory; what would it be like being in that close of proximity to Evie? The crate was their safest way into the camp, and time was running short. The supply runners would be there any minute to pick up the boxes.

Theron felt the sharp jab of Jonas’ elbow into his rib cage; the daydream lasted longer than he intended. 

“I’ll go alone. It was my idea, after all.” Evie spoke with an uneasy look at the size of the cargo container. 

“One person against an entire camp of heavily armed slavers and pirates? That’s a suicide run, Evie,” 

He tried to keep his objection neutral and his tone light—he failed. 

“He’s right,” Jonas said with a more serious tone. “You’d be facing a minimum of forty guards, all of whom are decent shots. Those are steep odds, even for a seasoned agent. Besides, from what I’ve heard you two are something of experts in the field of disrupting slave camps,” 

“You told him about Dromund Kaas?” She hissed to Theron with wide disbelieving eyes. 

“No, but unfortunately you just did,” Theron pointed out with a hint of a wince. 

Jonas eyed the cuticles of his fingernails with a casual air; Evie stood slack-jawed in defeat.

“I was always suspicious Theron was involved after I saw the intel; you confirmed it. It seems you forgot the first rule of espionage,” Jonas began with a flourish of his hand. Theron rolled his eyes at the slogan he’d heard a thousand times from Jonas’ lips. 

“Deny, deny, deny,” They finished the last part of the sentence together like the chorus of song. 

“Don’t feel too bad, Red.” Theron put a consolatory hand on her shoulder. “He’s been trying to get that secret out of me for almost a year,”

“Yes, he’s been unusually discreet as far as you are concerned,” Jonas was puffed up from his recent victory and in the mood to rib Theron. “If I hadn’t accidentally seen him looking at your holo, I wouldn’t have known you existed outside of the standard intelligence rumors,” 

Theron grimaced, and his shoulders shot up to his ears in embarrassment. Jonas stopped abruptly, realizing that he’d divulged too much information. Evie’s eye caught his momentarily with a mysterious half-smile, then she turned it back to the crate.

“Would you excuse us for one minute?” Theron inquired politely. He didn’t wait, he grabbed Jonas roughly by the collar and drug him out of earshot down the dock.  
“What are you doing?” 

“You’ve been a disaster all day; I thought I would help. If it wasn’t so pathetic, I’d almost say it was sweet,” 

“I have everything under control.“

“Do you?” Jonas lifted a skeptical brow. “You’ve barely managed to say five words to her today that weren’t ‘uhhhhh.’ If you’re not going to do it, someone has to show her that you care. At the rate you’re going, you’ll both be sixty by the time you get around to asking her to have that drink,” 

“Stop mollycoddling me and let me do things my way,” 

“Mollycoddling?” Jonas asked with a hint of a perplexed smile. 

“It’s a word,” Theron said defensively, feeling a little heat climb up his neck that her word for his meddling had now become his word for meddling. “It’s not important what it means. I want to take the time to do this, whatever this is, right.” 

“Time? How much time do you think that you have? You almost died last month. You’ve seen the way she throws herself into a fight. The numbers aren’t in either of your favor. You have an opportunity here. If you don’t say anything, you’ll regret it.“

A polite cough echoed in the silence. In the distance, Evie motioned impatiently to the container, eager to get the next part of their mission underway. She was right, of course. They needed to focus on the mission--there was a group of people living in misery that needed their help. His self-inflicted agony could wait. 

“Well, safe travels,” Jonas clapped Theron on the back and pushed him forward. 

 

The last beam of light disappeared; they were shoulder to shoulder, in a crate that felt more like a coffin. No matter how he moved or tried to press himself further into the wall of the crate, the amount of space between them didn’t change.

Muffled footsteps echoed outside the crate. They both froze and held their breath. 

“Margok wants these tools shipped to the camps. Double the production he says. I’d like to see him double my wages,” A worker griped as the crate shifted and creaked. 

“Ooo, this one’s heavier than the others.” The second voice observed. 

They waited in tense silence, each willing the pirates to load the crate onto the transport and move on. 

“What did the manifest say about this one?” 

“Mining tools. They’re sending the workers further down into the mines. Guess the equipment needs to be sturdier. Should we take a look?” 

“Nah. Would you look at all these boxes? We’re already two hours behind schedule. Take this crate and throw it on board, would ya?” 

They attached the loading clamps, and moments later, the crate was aboard the transport. The heavy thud of boots faded away; they were alone in the penetrating darkness.

“There would be more room if you lifted your arm,” She whispered in a hesitant voice. Theron took the arm closest to the wall and lifted it above his head until his fingertips grazed the top of the box. He heard an indelicate snort to his left. 

“No, not that one.” She amended with a small laugh. “The other arm,”

“Oh,” He said as he lowered his right arm with a confused frown. Lifting his arm wouldn’t create that much more space unless...OH...

He swallowed hard, and with a nod, shyly obliged her request. As he lifted his left arm, he heard a sweep of fabric against the floor of the crate. She settled herself on her side, facing him; her head nestled into his chest. His heart pounded in response at an outrageous tempo. Did she hear it? What should he do? Make a joke? Tell a story? 

“Five questions?” He asked after he felt he could trust his brain and mouth to work again. 

“Yes, that’s an excellent idea. I assume with the previously agreed upon rule: no redactions.” 

“Naturally. I’ll even allow you to go first,” 

“Bold choice. I think you know my first question,” 

Theron felt the oxygen evaporate from his lungs. 

“I do?” He managed hoarsely. 

“I want to know more about the poetry,” She snickered into his chest as he spoke. 

“You’re not going to let that go, are you? As punishment for teasing me, that counts as one of your questions. Since we’re on the subject of methods: is there a Cipher Agent ‘Method’?” 

“There is.” 

“What does that entail?” 

“A sharp knife and a punch to the face,” She snarked to avoid the question. 

He heard her sigh, the type of sigh he knew from previous experience was a prelude to a personal confession. He waited patiently, gave her the space to decide how to move forward. After a moment of silence, she relented. 

“Are you asking me from a professional or personal point of view?” She asked quietly.

“Both.” 

“Professionally speaking, the method changes depending upon the desires of the target. I’m whomever they need me to be.”

“And...personally?” 

His question lingered in the air between them. 

“I prefer to keep my professional life and my private life separate. The use of a method means the lies never truly stop,” 

“Makes sense. You don’t want to feel like you’re on the job when you’re not,” 

“Precisely. There isn’t a method...just me. Disappointing, isn’t it?” 

He fought the twenty different responses that instantly sprang to his lips and settled on:

“You’re too hard on yourself; it doesn’t sound that bad to me,” 

A different type of silence settled between them; it was thoughtful, as though she was processing his roundabout compliment. 

“Next question: How did you and Mr. Balkar meet?” There was a hint of a smile in her voice; he could tell she’d been holding onto this particular question all day. 

“Remember when I told you I was put on KP detail a lot in my first two years of SIS training? We met chopping onions, then were subsequently sent there on a weekly basis, usually as a result of his lack of self-control. I was an innocent by-stander but always guilty by association,” 

Evie smothered a laugh into his jacket. 

His next question burned the tip of his tongue and he blurted it out without thinking of the consequences. 

“Your hair,” He could barely manage the words. “Has it always been like that?” 

“Been like what? An uncontrollable, insipid Gundark’s nest of a mess?” 

“...Beautiful,” He confessed in a whisper. 

“Oh...” She was stunned. “I’m....uhhhh, flattered...no...no one’s ever...I mean...uhhhh...” 

For the first time in their acquaintance, she was speechless, sputtering in a way that was endearingly familiar. Evibail Colspur; stoic, ever steady, Imperial paragon of decorum was flustered.

He cleared his throat, the temptation was too strong to resist. 

“May I?” He inquired politely. 

Her movement stilled, her breathing slowed, then he felt her head shift against his chest in a nod. With trembling fingers, he lifted his left hand and let the tips of his fingers trace the soft waves from the top of her head to her shoulders. It was both soft to the touch and coarse at the edges. He marveled at the texture, and at the freedom she allowed him to explore it. His fingers started the pattern over, tracing ‘s’ shaped lines through new sections of her hair. 

“It’s a family heirloom; a gift from my father’s side,” She explained before she unleashed a soft, gratified sigh; the tension in her body melted away with it, and she sank further into his arm. His lips curled into a smile; at this moment, it didn’t matter that he didn’t have the courage to ask her to have a drink with him. 

“I yield my other questions,” She admitted with a voice that sounded soothed and heavy with fatigue. 

“Alright, do you mind if I use my last two?” 

“By all means,” 

“My last two questions deal with firsts. What was the first thought in your head the day we met?” 

“I don’t think you want to know, Theron,” 

“Tell me, I can take it,” 

“Very well, I thought your Imperial accent was one the worst I’ve ever heard,” 

“Ouch, brutal,” It didn’t surprise him that she picked his accent apart—she’d been subtly razzing him about it whenever he chanced to use it. 

“What was your first thought?”

“That there were worse ways to die than at the hands of...” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “...an enemy agent,” 

He recalled the day, the moment when his back slammed against the wall, and he saw the raging fire burning in her eyes. His exact thought was that there were worse ways to die than at the hands of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but the compliment was too trite to confess it now. He was grateful for the darkness that her sharp eyes didn’t see the way that his jaw muscle twisted under pressure to divulge everything he thought and felt that fateful day.

“Final question. What do you remember about your first kiss?” 

“Redacted,” She returned with a smile that resonated in her voice. 

“It’s a fair question. Also, you said no redactions,” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

“This is payback for all the jokes about my Imperial accent,” 

“Fine. I was in the Imperial academy and sixteen at the time. I stole a kiss from a very handsome cadet which turned out to be a mistake; it was the worst kiss of my life. You?” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear that story later.” He teased with a hint of a smirk. “Mine was during SIS basic. I was fourteen and more worried about what to do with my hands. Regrettably, that was not my worst kiss, and I still don’t know what to do with my hands,” 

“I’m sure you have a decent understanding of the basics,” 

He was tempted to show her that he did but quickly brushed the thought aside. This moment, with her curled into his arm, his fingers entwined in her hair, and their voices low with their shared confidences was boundlessly more intimate. This was a drastic change from his past; what was this new strange tranquility? Then, a thought struck him—this was the first time he’d felt this type of contentment. Was this moment, significant and powerful for him, equally as important to Evie? Inwardly, he rolled his eyes at his thoughts. There was no easy way to ask that question. He tried for a more indirect approach instead. 

“What was the best kiss of your life?” He adjusted the tone, to made the question sound playful, and not weighted with hidden meaning. 

“That’s more than five questions,” 

“Would you allow me an advance on my next set of questions?” 

“No. If I answer your question, you’ll laugh at me and be insufferable to deal with...”

“I won’t laugh. We’ve told each other just about everything else. Trust me,” 

She sighed heavily; through the darkness he sensed she was at war with herself on how to answer his question. 

“Hoth; Chiss operative named Aris—“ She stopped herself abruptly. “No, for safety’s sake, I shouldn’t reveal his name. You understand,” 

He analyzed the response and ignored the surge of discomfort he felt. Her voice lacked its typical considered cadence—was this the result of the memory of the kiss in question, was it possible there were still feelings on her side for this Chiss operative or was she lying? He assumed since he couldn’t think of a single reason she would have to lie to him, that she was possibly still connected to this operative in some way. It was oddly deflating. 

The ship’s vibrations sputtered to a halt. He opened his mouth to speak again; Evie put her fingertips to his lips and lifted her head from his chest to listen. His lips tingled at her touch. 

Footsteps approached, a loading clamp was attached, and minutes later, they were on the docks. Evie waited until the voices and footsteps disappeared before she slowly pulled herself away from his arms. 

“We’ll use the stealth belt to infiltrate the camp. I would suggest that we start with taking out the guards first before we release the slaves,”

“Agreed,” 

His arms felt the absence of her presence; his fingers longed for the velvety feel of her hair. He worked to push the thoughts away, to focus on the mission. He pushed on the lid of the crate; blinding bright light cascaded through the cracks. Theron stood first, then offered his hand to Evie to help her up. As she stood, her hand lingered in his longer than was necessary. She leaned towards him with a hesitant expression. 

“Manaan. My best kiss was on Manaan,” She confessed in a voice that was hardly above a whisper. 

“There, that wasn’t so bad. Though, when were you on Manaan before? I assumed from the way you were talking about Karus that you’d never set foot on the planet before.” 

Her eyes went wide; her brows flexed and her cheeks went pink. She studied his face in disbelief and wonder. 

“What?” He asked defensively; his mind ran amuck, wondering if her best kiss was with some lower-ranking Imperial. Maybe a smuggler? He felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought—smugglers had a reputation around the galaxy for being extraordinary lovers. Or maybe it was the Chiss? His envy deepened. 

“Do you really not know?” 

“Know what?” He asked in confusion. 

Her face spread into a wide-lipped smile that softened when her eyes met his. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she took a step forward, and affectionately pressed her lips to his cheek. 

“It’s not important. Follow me,” 

 

The gentle pressure of her lips on his cheek burned his memory and his skin. The slaves marched proudly onto Jakarro’s ship; Theron sorted through his confusion. Evie stood in the distance, deep in conversation with one of the prisoners. He approached, hands in his pockets, mind star systems away and caught snippets of the exchange. 

“We owe you a huge debt, how can we ever repay you?” The man asked as he offered her his hand to shake. He was weak from starvation and toil. “You’ll forever be a hero to us. We, all of us, we’ll join your fight against the Nova Blades,” 

She rested her hand on top of his, and he saw from the quiver of her mouth that she struggled to keep her emotions in check. 

“I’m—I’m no hero,” She stammered thickly; her Imperial training quickly compensated, and in a flash, she was her disciplined self. “You’ve done your fighting by surviving. If you want to repay me, you can escape this wretched planet and enjoy your freedom,” 

She gave his hand a pat and released it. 

“If ever you should need a favor, you know who to contact,” 

He turned to board Jakarro’s ship with a small wave. As the ship’s engines roared to life, her face softened into a smile that looked a little like pride.

“I was right about you on Dromund Kaas.” Theron bumped his shoulder into hers. “You do have a wild altruistic streak,” 

“I made the choice that I could live with...” She started with her usual pragmatic line, then stopped and dropped her voice into a whisper. “...Don’t you dare tell anyone,” 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Red,” 

 

Their boots thudded dully against the rickety wood planking of Raider’s Cove. His mind was drowning in a spinning vortex of questions and at the top of the list was her confession about Manaan. What was he supposed to know? His mind drifted to their tender kiss on the planet in question, the overload of his senses and the regret he felt that it was so brief. He blinked; the vortex ceased to swirl and sloshed to a stop. Stars above was Evie talking about their kiss on Manaan? The thought crashed down upon his head like the slap of the distant waves. He didn’t know what to do with this information. That was her best kiss? He was flattered and confounded in the same breath. They were near to the safe house where duty and the mission would take precedent—he was running out of time. 

“Evie, wait,” He reached out and took her hand. “I was wondering if...uhhhh...you...and...me...” 

His mind screamed at him to spit out the remainder of the sentence. He lapsed into humiliated silence. He was never going to be able to work up the nerve to do it. Evie’s lips trembled into a smile. She took a step forward, closed the space between them, and for the second time that day; she put the tips of her fingers to his lips to still his rambling mouth before it could spout out more nonsense. 

“What if, after the mission is over, I buy you a drink instead, Theron?” She asked him with a hint of a smile in her voice and a compassionate look. She knew. 

He smiled ruefully against her fingers and nodded slowly. 

“What gave me away?” 

“Oh a few things. The first attempt was a big clue,” He caught her hand with his and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm. She let out a gasp followed by a shaky laugh in response. “And Mr. Balkar might have mentioned it while you were slicing the data console,” 

“Oh no. What did he say?” 

“Don’t worry. We can talk about it over that drink,” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	16. The Drink

They were midway through the hallway of the safe house when an irrepressible thought sprang to his lips. 

“Come out with me tonight?” He kept his voice low, wary of attracting the attention of the other, nosier occupants who were currently engaged in a loud debate in the next room. This was progress—he didn’t stammer his way through it this time. 

“Are you mad? Lana will have our heads. We were supposed to debrief with her over an hour ago,” 

“After that,” 

“After she has our heads, or after the meeting?” She quipped with a teasing half-smile before she relented. “You don’t mind that I’m dressed like a pirate and covered in black sand?” 

“I wouldn’t have you any other way, Red,” He whispered in return with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that deepened when he saw her turn away with a flush. 

“Very well, tonight,” 

They entered the safe house, Evie first, Theron following a few seconds behind. He struggled to keep his smiling lips in check. From the corner of the room, Jonas scrutinized his demeanor with a narrow gaze. Theron’s eyes zipped to Evie, who, made direct eye contact with Jonas as she entered. Jonas mimed taking a drink from an invisible cup to her with a waggling lift of his eyebrows. She gave a queenly nod in return and suppressed a smile. Jonas exhaled loudly and gave a small jump for joy with a flail of his arms.

“There was a bug,” He lied after his antics caught Lana’s attention. 

“Well, you two have certainly caused quite a stir,” Lana fixed them both with a clear-eyed unwavering stare. 

Evie dropped her head to her chest in shame first, Theron followed suit, awaiting the inevitable lashing. For a moment, he felt like he was standing before Master Zho, awaiting judgment and a severe scolding that would never come. Instead, a heavy dose of guilt was served, alongside an equally punishing side of disappointment. Theron could never decide which of those was the worse punishment. It appeared that all Force users were offered heavy training in weaponizing both emotions. 

Lana took two steps forward and crossed her arms. 

“I don’t wholeheartedly agree with your impetuous decisions, particularly that you didn’t include me in the planning process,” Lana paused for dramatic effect; there was a glimmer of a twinkle in her eyes as she continued. “But, I cannot deny that when the two of you work together, you do achieve results,” 

“I take it the data we found was useful?” Evie visibly brightened when she saw the hint of a smile that Lana was attempting to suppress. 

“Yes, we’ve used your data to create two new objectives. A name appeared in several of the Nova Blade’s messages—Torch—the leader of a group of Mandalorians that up until a week ago was working with the Revanites. Given your elaborate cover story, I thought you might be the one to approach the group,” 

“Is it because of the cannibalism?” Evie quipped with a hint of a smirk. 

“Cannibalism?” Lana shot an exasperated widening of her eyes at Theron. “No, decidedly not. Between all of us, you have the credibility as the Red Blade and rival gang leader to gain their trust. Jonas and Jakarro will go on a desperately needed supply run, Theron and I will surveil the Revanite safe house,” 

“This will all start tomorrow?” Theron pipped up hopefully; he disguised his eagerness as fatigue. For good measure, he threw in an exaggerated yawn. 

“Yes,” Evie fought a smile and jumped in quickly. “I’m a little knackered myself. Could do with a few Kolto injections,”

“And as eager as I am to spend more time with the incomparable Jakarro, there won’t be any vendors open at this hour, or at least, not the kind that you’re interested in,” 

As Jonas spoke, he threw Evie a sideways wink when Lana wasn’t looking. 

Lana’s shoulders dropped in defeat. 

“It appears that I’m overruled. I suppose I don’t see the harm in getting a few hours sleep. We’ll reconvene tomorrow at 0500,” Lana pronounced with a final air. “You’ll stay with us, won’t you? I can’t attest to the comfort of it, but we do have an extra cot,”

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve taken lodging in town. I ought to retire now. I suspect my crew will be wondering where I am,” 

Jonas cleared his throat and pierced Theron with his gaze. 

“Raider’s Cove isn’t safe at night, Theron can attest to that. Someone ought to walk with you, for your protection,” 

It was the wrong choice of words. Evie bristled visibly and cocked her hip to one side with her arms folded across her chest.

“You must be joking,” She threw in an Imperial ‘tut’ to punctuate her displeasure. “If you’re implying that I require any protection, I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do,” She took a menacing step forward. 

Jonas edged backward until his back bumped against the nearby table with a genuine look of fear. 

“I’ll walk with you,” Theron stepped in between them. “If the Revanites are foolish enough to attack you, I know better than to get in your way,” 

She appeared to weigh his offer. 

“I’ll agree to your terms so long as you agree that you’ll walk me half-way. Between the two of us, there’s only one of us standing here that took vibroknife to the stomach,” 

“And only one of us that appears to be wounded twice from it,” Jonas grinned from ear to ear. Theron bit back a sarcastic retort. 

They made a move toward the hall; Evie exited first. Jonas jumped in front of Theron before he could follow. He gave a furtive look around before he lowered his voice conspiratorially. 

“Nice work, pal. You pulled it off. I assume you’re going out for that drink,” 

“I don’t know whether I should punch you in the face or thank you for your help,” Theron admitted honestly. 

“If I had a credit for every time I’ve heard someone say that,” 

“You’d be retired on Nar Shaddaa already,” Theron finished for him. 

“Nervous?” 

“Not that I’ll admit,” Theron let out a long sigh. 

He hadn’t felt this level of anticipation and anxiety since his mission to Taral V. The stakes were high. What if this went poorly? Or what if he slipped up and revealed too much about his feelings? What if she didn’t feel the same? One wrong word and he might single-handedly destroy their friendship forever. The thought summoned a deep, resonating pain that started in his stomach and increased acutely when it reached his heart. He spent so much time wanting to have a drink with her that he didn’t plan for anything beyond that. What exactly was his objective here?

“Amazing—you’re spiraling out of control as we speak,” Jonas remarked with a wry smile. “You’ve done this at least a dozen times before, or at least I think you have. It’s not any different,” 

“This one is different,” 

Jonas took his pointer finger and pushed it in between the knitted muscles of Theron’s furrowed brows. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this to you of all people, but you might be overthinking with this,” Jonas tapped Theron’s skull, then let the finger touch Theron’s chest right above his heart. “And not enough with this—a real first for you,” 

“Thinking with this,” Theron tapped his chest. “Hasn’t always led to the best outcomes. Remember Ord Mantell?” 

“Yes, she was gorgeous. What was her name again?” 

“Kara,” Theron winced at the memory. She’d been a mistake that nearly cost him his career. 

“She was an Imperial spy too,” Jonas pointed out with a grin. “You certainly have a type. Though, I don’t think you were thinking with your heart with her,” 

“Probably not,”

“This isn’t anything long term. It’s just a drink—you’re not asking her to marry you,” 

Theron let out a shrill, high-pitched uncomfortable laugh in response. Jonas blinked at him in a mixture of disbelief and repulsion. 

“This is a weird version of a pep talk, Balkar. Even for you,” 

Jonas put his hands to his temples and massaged in response to his difficult pupil. 

“Forget everything I just said. Think about the Balkar method’s three F’s instead. Food, fun and f—“

Jonas lifted his hand to prompt Theron to fill in the heavy pause with the last ‘f’ word. Theron drew in a sharp breath. There was one word in particular that instantly sprang to lips, and he gave into the tempting images that flashed in his mind. His lips tipped into a distracted smile. 

“The word you’re looking for is friendship, Shan,” 

They’d completely reversed roles, with Jonas playing the part traditionally played by Theron, logical, calmly soothing while shooting down Jonas’ worst impulses. This, of course, was ironic since neither of them were known for thinking through their decisions.

“Right. Friendship,” 

“Have a meal together, have some fun, but here’s the most important part—are you listening?” 

“Sorry, I was thinking about other ‘f’ words. I’m listening,” 

“You’re having a drink with a friend. That’s it; nothing more, nothing less,” 

The words hit the knot forming in his chest and knocked him back with the impact of the simple wisdom. 

“Wow, Balkar. That’s almost poetic,” Theron was impressed; he’d never had a conversation with Jonas that didn’t end in some ribald joke. “Why are you helping me?”

Jonas kicked his boot to knock off imaginary dust. 

“Would you ignore a drowning man?” 

“Haha. Very funny,” 

“We’ve known each other for over a decade. I don’t remember the last time you cracked a smile. It’s nice...Now, get out of here. Go have that drink; she’s waiting for you,” 

 

“For a moment, I thought you might stand me up,” She was leaning against the wall of the safe house next to the door. 

“Jonas wanted to go over some...strategies,” 

They were two minutes in, and his heart was pounding. Okay, okay. This was simple: nothing to worry about. She’s a friend, Theron, nothing more. Food, fun, and friendship—don’t even think about the other ‘f’ word that’d slipped into his thoughts subconsciously. Fun? Fun. He knew how to have fun, right? Well, he knew how to have a particular type of fun that, as much as he wanted it to, didn’t necessarily apply here. 

“Let’s play a game,” She suggested with a hint of an impish twinkle in her eyes. Her hand slipped into the crook of his arm as they walked, a new habit that he could get used to. Little by little, the tension in his shoulders melted. 

“That sounds like a terrible idea—I’m in,” 

“It’s an old Imperial Intelligence game. We call it Fact or Fallacy. You tell me two things about yourself: one lie and one truth. If I guess which is the truth, you owe me a drink. If I fail to guess correctly, I owe you a drink,” 

“That’s not an Imperial game. The SIS coined it first; we call it Fact or Fiction. But the name doesn’t matter. I’ll win regardless of what we call it,” 

“My we’re confident tonight,” 

“I’m so confident that I’ll even let you go first,” He warmed to the challenge of the game. 

“We’ll start as soon as I’m done imagining what it will be like to drink away all your credits,” She met his eyes with a flirtatious smile that lit her whole face.

He knew perfectly well that even trying his best that he would lose the game. In hindsight, as far as Evie was concerned, he’d lost it some time ago. But this, walking with her on a breezy night, with her hand tucked into his arm and a hint of a challenge between them, this felt like a win. 

“You do know you have to play the game if you want to back up your bragging,” 

“I’m thinking,” She ordered her face so that it became unreadable, took a deep breath, and revealed her puzzle. “Fact or Fallacy—or fiction as the less civilized amongst us insist upon calling it. Number one: I once went on an opp disguised as a serving droid. Number two: If I never joined Imperial Intelligence, I would have followed in my parent’s footsteps and worked as a cook,” 

The expression revealed nothing. There was no sarcastic curl of her lips, not a flutter of eyelashes. He slowed their pace, tilted his head back from a distance and considered the two supposed facts. The first sentence sounded so outlandish it had to be the lie. 

“You’ve never disguised yourself as a droid for an opp. That has to be the lie,” 

“Obviously,” She paused for dramatic effect. “You are incorrect,” 

“That’s impossible. How did you—where did you?” Theron sputtered in disbelief. 

“I’ll spare you the gorier details. It involved metal attachments and a great deal of surgery. Now I might be confused about the rules of the game, but I think that means you owe me a drink,” 

She offered him her most beguiling smile and two bats of her eyelashes to emphasize the victory. He was instantly charmed. 

“You understand the rules just fine,” 

They were outside the entrance to the Blaster’s Path. Pirates at varying points of intoxication jammed the doorway. The heavy bass line from the Cantina band thumped like a siren’s call, drawing him in with the pulsing energy. 

“Follow me,” 

 

They settled into a booth in a dark corner of the Cantina, far enough away from the band that they were able to talk freely. He left her with her chin in her hand, carefully scrutinizing the crowd. It was a habit he recognized; no matter the circumstance looking over their shoulders for threats was second nature. He did the same. Locals filled the Cantina; most nursed their drinks, their bodies heavy with sorrows and unseen worries. Raider’s Cove: a wild place that masked deep-seated unhappiness that he suspected, the Nova Blades sowed. He asked for a Whiskey himself, and their best, most expensive Brandy for her. The tightness in his chest softened; he was doing it. He finally was able to buy her that drink. His shoulders felt lighter, the flutter in his chest was almost giddy. What was this feeling? 

When he returned her face brightened at the sight of the drink in his left hand, and he knew what to call it: he felt content for the first time in a long time. 

“You remembered,” She murmured in a breathless voice as reached out for the glass of deep amber Brandy and took an appreciative sniff. 

“You sound surprised,” 

He slid toward the middle of the booth and arranged his limbs to appear more carefree than he felt. His arm was draped lazily around the top of the booth; his face was tipped away from the light so that he could keep his nerves hidden in shadow. 

“I shouldn’t be; you have a keen eye for detail. That’s what makes you a good agent. For a member of the SIS, that is. Cheers,” She clinked her glass with his, gave it a delicate swirl, then took a savoring sip with her eyes closed. 

“And you have excellent taste in alcohol. Is that something you learned in the kitchens at a tender age too?” 

He was teasing, but the question was one at the top of his list. 

“I should lie; make the story seem less mundane, and my youth more gritty. Would you believe that I learned as part of a cover? One of my first opps was to surveil a wealthy entrepreneur on Nar Shaddaa. I was hired as his personal bartender, so naturally, I dug into my research, perhaps a little more than I should,” 

Her pointer finger mindlessly traced the rim of her glass, a sign, he thought, that betrayed a hint of nerves. He took a steadying drink of his Whiskey, not as high quality as the kind she kept on her ship, but passable, and summoned the will to voice his next question. Before he could ask it, she jumped into the silence with a bright smile. 

“Fact or Fallacy. It’s your turn in the game,” 

A loud group of pirates walked into the room in the midst of a shouting contest over who would buy the next round. Evie scooted closer to him in response; he assumed so that they could hear each other talk. She settled herself into the booth and turned her body toward his with a hint of pixieish anticipation at the thought of his losing the game. Charmed to the point of distraction, he scooted toward her drawn by the radiant light that beamed from her eyes and smile. Their knees and shoulders brushed. 

“Fact or Fiction,” He used the SIS version of the game title to playfully irritate her. 

Evie leaned her chin into her hand intently; her vibrant eyes danced across his face in search of any obvious tell. Her eyes focused on the left hand side of his face, waiting for the jump of the muscles. He was ready for her this time. He forced every muscle in his face to remain absolutely still. 

“Number one: I once defeated a Sith Lord by using an overheated blaster. Number two: I’m fluent in Shyriiwook,”

He put his chin in his hand, replicating her exact posture in an effort to both mock her and throw her off the scent. She cocked her head to the right; her eyes bore into his in intense thought. 

“Say something in Shyriiwook,” 

“Nice try,” Her show of cunning brought an appreciative smile to his face. “That’s against the rules,” 

“You can’t blame me for trying,” She shrugged, leaned closer, and examined his features in challenging silence. 

“Leaning in closer isn’t going to help you,” 

His voice was low; his eyes drifted away from hers. They swept over the freckles that dotted the landscape of her face, the sharp upturn of her nose, and the one dimple that mysteriously appeared on the rarest of occasions when he said something that particularly amused her. 

“No? How do you know it won’t help?” She murmured in return with a devious glint in her eyes. “I have one last question,” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

Her gaze dropped down to his lips and lingered there. He audibly gulped and fought to keep his pounding heart from shooting out of his chest. Friendship; the f word he should be thinking about was friendship. Old habits, mistakes from his past romantic catastrophes resurged with abandon. The Cantina was suddenly too crowded, he wanted them to be alone—well actually, he wanted more than that. He reached abruptly for his Whiskey and drained it to the dregs. When he turned back to her, she shifted into his space. Her hand twisted into the lapel of his jacket; she pulled him forward with a soft tug. He didn’t resist, didn’t attempt to put up a fight. The tip of her nose touched his as she spoke. 

“When you destroyed Darth Karrid with your overloaded blaster, were you fully naked or half?” 

“Half,” He admitted freely without thought. Nothing else mattered; her lips were so close he could almost taste the last traces of lingering spice from the Brandy. 

Evie abruptly pulled her face away from his. She leaned back into the booth where her arms folded across her chest in triumph. He blinked; the spell she cast was broken. Wait a second did she—his eyes went wide—yes, she played him! 

“That’s doesn’t seem fair,” He croaked hoarsely as he struggled to regain consciousness. 

His trembling hand reached for his empty Whiskey glass. He tipped it back, felt a single drop of Whiskey hit his tongue, then wished that it wasn’t empty. 

“That’s Fact or Fallacy,” She grinned from ear to ear. “You’ll find there are less restrictions when you play the Imperial version,” 

“How did you figure it out?” 

“I remember reading about the Ascendant Spear in your file. Our analysts are remarkably detailed in their fact finding missions. The bit about the blaster piqued my interest,” 

Her face softened into something that had the appearance of remorse with the smallest dash of gloat. 

“Don’t feel bad, Red,” He laughed at himself to hide his embarrassment. “I had that coming. I’ll take it as punishment for telling the whole of Rishi that you’re a cannibal,” 

“I have no regrets,” She smirked as she drank the last of her Brandy. “Do you know that amongst the Sith, you’re referred to as ‘Technoplague’?” 

“‘Technoplague?’ I like the sound of that,” 

“Yes, I thought you might. Should I refer to you by that name for the rest of the game?” 

“How about for the rest of my life?” He laughed at the thought. “Although, I am curious about the game. What made you decide to play it?” 

“Truthfully, Jonas was the one that suggested the game. He said you might be...” 

Her eyes went wide, her voice trailed off. 

“What did Jonas say?” He jumped on the question, realizing that Evie, the master interrogator, made one important slip. “Hold on—you’re calling him ‘Jonas’ now? When did you two get so chummy?“

“Nothing—he said nothing,” She guiltily tucked the stray curls that had fallen across her face behind her ear—a habit, he noticed, when she was lying. He smiled to himself; after almost a year he’d finally discovered her tell. He changed tactics abruptly. 

“Did you know that everyone has a tell when they lie?” He borrowed the sentence from her speech on Manaan when she revealed his tell. “Lana smirks; Jonas rubs his nose with his thumb, and you,” He slid closer to her in the booth, reached his hand out and tucked a remaining stubborn curl behind her ear. “You push your hair behind your ears,” 

Her eyes darted back and forth in panic as though looking for an exit strategy. Then, as his thumb drifted to and brushed a soft line down her cheek, the fear in her eyes drained away. 

“He said that you haven’t been the same since we met,” Her voice was so low that it was barely audible over the raucous laughter at the bar. “He outlined all the ways you’ve changed or been distracted. That during the time when you thought I was dead that you were devastated. He...he said you care about me. Is all that true?” 

“Jonas tends to have a loose association with the truth,” His mouth started to run away from his brain. He pulled it into a tight line to prevent it from rambling. “Of course I care about you...I mean, we’re friends, right?” 

“Oh...I see,” Her face fell; she absorbed the implications of his words in thoughtful silence. 

“Oy, Blade!” A rough voice shouted from across the Cantina. The laughter sputtered and then died away, conversations dropped into startled silence. “Margot sends his regards,”

The pirate, with a bandaged right hand, was the same scraggly toothed henchman from earlier in the day. He raised his blaster, and prepared to pull the trigger. There was a collective gasp from the patrons in the bar, a pause, then chaos erupted. 

Evie reacted first; pushing the table with all of her might to create a barricade to shield them. At the same time, Theron lunged for her; his arm tucked her tight against his chest, his free hand cradled her head to protect it. He pulled her toward the ground right as the first blaster shot struck the booth narrowly missing her head by centimeters. They tumbled to the floor with a heavy thud and rolled, tangled in each other’s limbs until they collided to a stop against the table. 

“Are you okay?” Theron breathed as he propped himself up onto his elbows. 

Evie directed her eyes to the way they were laying with a dazed, slightly bemused half-smile and a flush to her cheeks. Theron blinked and followed her gaze. 

He had her pinned chest to chest, with one arm wrapped behind her back, one hand cradling her head, with the rest of him sandwiched firmly between her thighs, in a way that he’d frequently imagined, but not in a life or death situation or with this much clothing. Two more blaster shots collided with the table. Evie cleared her throat delicately. 

“Do you think you could...” She asked when they’d lingered too long in each other’s arms. 

“I-yep. Yes,” He stammered as he reluctantly rolled off of her with his pulse pounding for other reasons beyond that they were currently under attack. She drew her blaster, and did a scan of the room above the table line. The appearance of her head at the edge of the table drew their fire. Three more pirates entered the room, completely blocking the main exit. 

“We’ll be pulverized if we stay here much longer,” He yelled, firing a shot that managed to hit one of the pirates in the shoulder. 

“I have an idea,” Evie started as Theron fired several shots from around the corner of the table in retaliation. “Cover me?” 

Evie popped up from behind the table. Theron scrambled to provide her cover. She leveled her blaster with the control panel behind the bar, and fired a series of rapid shots that sent sparks flying. The room descended into darkness, pitch black, thick, and impenetrable to light. He heard the subtle beep of her activated stealth belt.

Pirates stumbled in the darkness; patrons still trapped in the Cantina screamed and made a panicked break for the door. He heard a bevy of swear words from the pirates. 

“Get those lights back on,” One of them snarled in the darkness. “Find them, they can’t have gone far. Kill the Blade, take the man alive. Revan has something special planned for him,”

Her hand slid down his arm; it hesitated at the cuff of his jacket. Then each one of her fingers slid between his. His eyes went wide at the pressure of her smaller hand intertwined with his. Well, this was an interesting development. It was her way; a small gesture of trust, offered unexpectedly and without explanation in the heat of crisis. His fingers tightened around hers, he gave her hand a small squeeze. With a non-gentle tug, pulled him in a serpentine pattern through the darkness and out of the Blaster’s Path. 

They walked a safe distance away from the Cantina before Evie deactivated the stealth belt and pulled them into a nearby alley to ensure they weren’t being followed. 

“As dates go, would you believe that this doesn’t rank as one of my worst?” He said with a smirk; her hand was still wrapped in his. Try as he did to encourage his fingers to release hers, they ignored his brain’s commands. She stopped and fixed him with a puzzled stare. 

“A date? Is that what this is?” 

Kriff. He’d gotten through the majority of the night without any slips or awkward stammering only to dive headlong into disaster at the last second. Typical Theron. 

“A date? Who said that?” He feinted, hoping she’d be thrown off the scent. 

“You did. Just now,”

“Oh, that? That’s not what I meant. I was calling it a ‘date’ as a joke. You know how sometimes when an opp goes poorly you call it a date? Or at least that’s what we do in the SIS,” He forced an unconvincing laugh. 

“So tonight was some sort of a joke?”

Disappointment crept into her tone as her eyes dropped to the dock. Her fingers loosened around his and she started to slowly withdraw her hand from his grasp. He kept his grip steadfast, unwilling to lose the warmth of the connection between them. 

“No, it wasn’t.” He drew in a deep breath and held it while he battled his uncertainty. In his mind, he reviewed a little of Jonas’ coaching sessions, while struggling to suppress the impulse to lay his secret at her feet. “Evie, I—“ 

She froze, her hand tightened around his, her eyes tore away from his and she cast a nervous look over her shoulder. 

“Someone’s coming,” She whispered tensely, as she peered around the corner to confirm whether it was a friend or foe. “It’s the Nova Blades,” 

She pulled her hand from his grasp and fumbled at the buttons for her stealth belt too late. 

“Oy, I think I see something over here,” The pirate called to his other partners. Eight more pirates joined him from the shadows. 

Theron cast a wide-eyed look around the alley. It was a dead-end. They were out of options. At two to eight; the odds weren’t in their favor. He ran the numbers; if he tackled two of the pirates, he might give Evie the opportunity to escape. His eyes met hers; they were out of time. Why didn’t he admit to her that this was a date? He didn’t have anything to gain from denying it. Now it was too late. 

“Do you trust me?” Desperation bled into her voice. 

“With my life,” 

“Good, then follow my lead,” Evie slipped her hands underneath the shoulders of his jacket; it slid to the ground with an indelicate slap behind him. 

“Hey!” He hissed in protest; Theron’s head swiveled to where the jacket landed as she kicked it into the shadows with her boot. “What are you—“ 

Evie’s lips seized his hungry with blinding, zealous need. His body ignited with heat, nerves popped and zinged. A blaster bolt would have hit him with less intensity—Focus Theron. There was a reason she was doing this—and it wasn’t the one he wanted. Her fingers carted through his hair; his scalp tingled at the touch. His mind drifted to the taste of her lips, the lingering spice of the Brandy, the scent of her hair, fragrant with lavender and something else he couldn’t identify. His treacherous arms ignored his brain’s entreaties for restraint; they encircled her waist and pulled her tightly against him. No, no, no. That was the opposite of focused. What was he doing?

She staggered backwards; her fingers seized his shirt to take him with her further into the shadows. So that was her plan; create a scene so uncomfortable that the pirates would avoid scrutizing them too closely. The jacket was an obvious give-a-way; too distinct for even the dullest of pirates to forget. He supposed he could forgive her for throwing it into the dirt. In the low light, and with him hiding her from view, her unforgettable hair would be nearly indistinguishable. His admiration for her cleverness surged along with his pulse. The pirates were on the edge of the alley; their footsteps echoed on the rotting planks. And that’s when it happened. 

Her fingers slyly drifted beneath the edge of his shirt, and traipsed down the sensitive flesh of the still healing scar on his abdomen. His mind surrendered to the fiery waves of pleasure that rippled through his body at her touch. His lips parted into a gasp; she seized the opportunity, slid her tongue into his mouth and tangled it with his. A gutteral, pained sound escaped from his throat; he softly moaned her name like it was a whispered prayer. Her lips paused beneath his momentarily at the sound. Oh no. Did she hear him? They were play acting for the benefit of the pirates and a little of his own secret desire for her slipped out. She was a masterful conductor in complete control of their performance; she played him like a Alderaanian Flute until he sang a melody with each sweep of her tongue with his. He was supposed to be a seasoned spy; over enthusiasm, being unable to separate the difference between reality and fantasy was a rookie move. He broke the kiss in embarassment like a bashful teenager. 

“Sorry,” He whispered breathlessly; he sank into another languid kiss. 

Ever so slowly, he felt the corner of her lips tilt up beneath his into the cunning half smile that drove him wild. 

“Don’t be,” 

He tried to be logical; he tried to turn over a new page of his disastrous romantic life with her, to put friendship on a higher pedestal but this one act brought his self-imposed caution to its knees. His hands seized her hips, the tips of his fingers traced their soft curves. Her torso curled against his in response and their kiss deepened. Her back collided against the alley wall; their bodies melded into one. His lips crushed hers in the way he wanted them to since the day that they met, fierce, an expression of his intense bottled-up longing. They continued like this for several breathtaking minutes before his want was temporarily satiated. His hands drifted into her hair; his lips softened into shorter kisses, punctuated with tender sweeps and brushes. 

“Theron,” She groaned between kisses in a voice that was hoarse and breathless. “They’re gone,” 

“I know.” His lips left hers and started an exploratory path down the soft curve of her neck. “They left five minutes ago. Do you want me to stop?” 

He breathed the last sentence against the pink scar around her neck, exhaling it like a sigh. 

“No,” Evie gave a satisfying shiver as he traced his lips around the base of her neck. “But the pirates will be back, and there’s a limit to how far I’m willing to debase myself in public in order to escape,” 

Theron stole one last taste of her lips before he pulled his head away. Their bodies trembled, pulsating with energy and desire. He managed a woozy, lopsided grin. 

“Your blaster is digging into my hip,” Her eyes drifted down with hidden meaning. 

He followed her gaze; the polite innuendo hit him with a burst of heat that radiated from his toes to the tips of his ears. He took a large step back; untangled his fingers from her hair digit by digit, tried to regulate his pulse and correct the obvious evidence of his desire for her. In contrast, with the exception of a more vibrant flush to her cheeks, Evie was composed; almost business-like. Not for the first time since they met, he wondered if his obvious attraction was mutual or stronger on his side. 

Her hand rested on his arm, the act was followed by a short click. He pulled himself out of his tortured thoughts in time to see her stealth belt wrapped around his bicep. 

“My room isn’t far from here. For safety sake, I want you to have this on loan for the walk back to the safe house,” 

Evie’s hand lingered on his arm; his hand reached out and covered hers. 

“This wasn’t what I had in mind for tonight,” Theron confessed, struggling to find the right words to convey his feelings. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

He gulped; the confession was on the edge of his tongue, radiating from every part of his expression as his eyes poured into hers. Evie’s eyes met his, brightly shinning through the darkness, filled with hopeful anticipation. As he struggled in awkward silence, the light dwindled and dimmed. With his hands, with his lips, he told her a hundred times over everything he wanted to say. Why was it so hard to put it into words?

“Good night, Theron,” She mumured with a soft squeeze of his arm and muffled sigh. She was to the edge of the alley before he found his voice. 

“Evie—wait,” He didn’t have a plan; he thought to Jonas’ advice to speak from his heart. “Let’s do this again some time,” 

She turned abruptly on her heel; Evie’s cheeks trembled into a glorious smile, wide and unimpeded. 

“Tomorrow?” 

“It’s a date,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long! I debated many of the plot points in this chapter, including whether or not to post it, skip ahead in the story, or allude to the events in this chapter without actually showing it. So I wrote two versions of the story, one with the fluff and one without it. As you can see, the fluff won out. 
> 
> Hope it’s okay! 
> 
> (BTW, are the tags still okay on the story? I’m not sure if this chapter and the upcoming chapters push this into mature territory. LMK what you think!)


	17. Shadows of the Past

Sleep was elusive. Between Lokin’s rattling snores, punctuated with sputtering, choking snorts and her racing thoughts, she slept not a wink. With her hands tucked behind her head, she counted the water stains on the ceiling; her eyes lingered on a green stain above her head that was not caused by a leak. At best, it was some slimy fluid trail left by an unusual species. Though, it was anybody’s guess as to how it wound up on the ceiling. She pushed her mind not to think through the other, less savory possibilities. It was easier to observe the grimy details of the room as the night hours bled slowly into dawn’s light. Better not to give in to the temptation to analyze the events of the past three days.

With great effort, she managed to keep her distance from Theron, ignored the flutter in her chest every time he smiled at her. Except for the occasional slip-up here and there, she’d been the model of decorum. Theron wasn’t making it easy, what with the smoldering looks that caught her in their blaze in a way that made it impossible to breathe or the way that he caressed his thumb across her cheek while he tucked her hair behind her ear. As an Imperial, she prided herself on her restraint, but stars, there were limits to her self-control. Evie wrinkled her nose in response—what was wrong with her? Her behavior since their reunion on Corellia violated every single one of her four rules—four contingency plans designed to keep her alive and her heart protected. 

Rule one: partnerships were not allowed under any circumstances. Except for her crew of five, she’d lived by this rule religiously—then she met Theron. Working with him now was second nature; he fit easily into her work. It was strange knowing she had a partner on whom she could thoroughly rely. She could never tell him this of course; his ego would ascend into the stratosphere, and she’d never hear the end of it. 

Rule two: absolutely no exchange of personal details. He’d chipped away at this rule with his ludicrous questions in that disarming way of his—though; she didn’t fault him completely—she’d asked her fair share of questions too. 

Rule three: physical encounters were to be used as leverage or solely for the gratification of needs without the complication of feelings. She thought herself immune to tawdry behavior, frantic kisses in dark alleys, pulling him closer with each brush of his lips with hers—she wasn’t. Last night was unquestionably her fault; there were fifty other ways they could have escaped the pirates. She could have activated her stealth belt or used her coma gas. But no, she gave in to her worst impulse and initiated the kiss that for as long as she lived, she might never see the equal to again. If the Nova Blades were to snuff her in this precise moment, she’d die knowing that she’d shared the best kiss of her life with the man that she...Evie pulled her pillow out from under her head to smother her embarrassment and herself out of existence. No, no, no. Those sorts of feelings were out of the question. That was quite enough of that nonsense! 

This brought her to rule four: if all the rules mentioned above were broken, her final step was to sever ties with that person for their safety. Drive a wedge deep, put a stop to whatever this was before it became all-consuming. She was no longer an active member of the Intelligence community, but that wouldn’t last. If Lana discovered her ruse, others weren’t far behind. She stole the Black Codex from the clutches of the Empire and the Republic—a crime that would eventually be met with assassins, bounties and certain death. As long as she aligned with Theron his life was in grave danger 

She’d lost her family, colleagues, and her first love due to this weakness—this chink in her armor that could not prevent her soft heart from seeping out. Everything she touched, everyone she allowed herself to love was ruthlessly taken from her. Evie’s restless mind paused; she swallowed hard as the word love, the monosyllabic, dangerous, glorious word dangled in the open. Where did that word come from? Evie shook her head in fear, fought to push the word back into the compartment where she kept her secrets, never again to see the light of day. She threw back her unrumpled bedroll and pulled on her boots with a leaden sense of growing fear and regret. It would have to end—and it would have to end this morning. There could be no more frivolous evenings out, no more secret games, questions, or confidences, and under no circumstances was she ever to allow herself to kiss him again.

 

The sun slept peacefully while the last wan light of the moon and the stars above kept watch. Outside of the safe house, a silent war waged between Evie’s logical mind and her decidedly less sensible heart. Her mind tried to compose what she should say to Theron; her heart rejected every line. She paced the dock with her hands tucked behind her back, and her eyes downcast. It surprised her how little she wanted to have this conversation with him. 

Ordinarily, this type of decision did not require coaxing—if there was a problem, she rectified it with pure, unadulterated logic. The more she debated her next course of action, the stronger her wild heart fought against her rational mind. They were categorically no longer colleagues after the previous evening’s events. She didn’t know what to call him now. What did one call a person with whom they shared a deep connection, while also having shared two different, wildly passionate kisses? Theron’s unexpected prowess in the alley demonstrated that giving into their desire for each other would not be an entirely offensive way to spend an evening (with a begrudging roll of her eyes, she admitted if only to herself that she would probably—no—she would definitely enjoy it). What were the consequences, she wondered, of giving in to that temptation?

He was a trained spy, competent at his job. Theron was more than capable of avoiding the dangers their liaison might place on his head. Why not, for the remainder of their mission on Rishi, tangle him into her arms and lead him into her bed? The more she analyzed the idea, the fewer problems she saw. She would stick to her rule, of course, and keep the liaison isolated to Rishi, then end it once they were no longer called to work with each other. With the attraction slaked, the passion would fizzle, and they would lose interest in each other, wouldn’t they? A small voice, deep in the farthest corner of her heart, whispered a soft ‘no,’ and she was forced to look at it from another perspective. What if it didn’t end? Their time together thus far seemed to feed their bond, not weaken it—a chill of horror ran up her spine as her feet abruptly stopped—if it didn’t end, and she had no desire to allow it to do so—what did she call this? 

Stop! Her heart was playing tricks on her to prevent her from doing what was necessary. The facts were plain. He was recovering from a vibroknife wound to the gut. The Empire was prepared to assassinate him for the crime of working with her. Her heart gave a sputtering sigh; was a few nights of passion worth the potential cost? If she lost him, either through the end of their friendship or the end of his life as a result of her actions, she could never forgive herself. Her beating heart slowed, weighted with the sadness of the reality.

Evie pulled her lips taut, squared her shoulders, and mustered every ounce of courage she had. It was better not to look him in the eye while she explained it. With her gaze focused on the wall, and her voice emotionless, she would tell him that it was unprofessional getting a drink with him--that she preferred to remain his colleague—in short, she would lie. With a deep breath, she swept inside the safe house.

“Theron, I think we should talk. I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I don’t think we should continue—“

Her feet tripped over something substantial, and she nearly went sprawling across the room. Startled, she pulled her blaster when she heard a cross ‘ouch.’ In her hurry to accomplish her mission, she failed to notice the long, crossed limbs of Jonas Balkar, who leaned back in a chair at the table facing the door. He wore a bemused grin; his eyes drank in her frazzled state, the less than immaculate braid, the exhausted bags under her eyes, and the smile widened. 

“Theron isn’t here at the moment, but that sounded like an interesting conversation. Should I take a message for him?” 

“No,” Evie spoke sharply as she holstered her blaster with a grunt. Jonas was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. It was peevish, but there was a small part of her that held him responsible for her current state—without his encouragement, she would never have asked Theron out for a drink in the first place. “It’s not important. You’re up early,” 

“Yes; we had a change of plans. Theron thought it best to pad our numbers to infiltrate the Revanite safe house with a little extra muscle. Something about a run-in with some pirates at the Blaster’s Path last night spooked him. Jakarro went with them; I’m left to sort out the supplies on my own. He suggested that I should get an early start, then join you to help with the Mandalorians,” 

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Balkar, but I don’t think I’ll require your help. It sounds like your talents are required elsewhere,” 

His blue eyes pierced her facade, caught the aspects of the uncertainty she desperately sought to hide. His lips pulled up into a smile as he turned his body in the chair toward the table as he taunted her over his shoulder. 

“I’d ask you how it went last night, but I don’t think I need to. Theron hit the sonic twice for a cold soak to ‘clear his head.’ Then he spent the rest of the time meditating. You’re not the only one who looks like they didn’t sleep,”

He stood and turned to face her, holding a mug with a datapad resting on top. 

“I slept very well, thank you very much,” She snapped in return as he pressed the mug into one hand, and the datapad into the other.

The mug contained blistering warm Caf, with a fragrance that was rich, bold, and unlike the weak Caf Kaylio procured from the local vendors. She inhaled the wafting aroma, and her dark mood melted away with the waves of steam. Evie took a tentative first sip; the taste was sweet, with hints of spice that matched the notes of the Brandy she preferred. 

“The Caf is Theron’s own carefully guarded secret recipe. He brings the beans with him wherever he goes. Thirteen years we’ve known each other; he won’t even hint at where he gets his supply. It took me ten years to get him to trust me enough for him to make me a cup,” 

The Caf turned inexplicably hot against her tongue; she choked on it with a cough and swallowed hard to disguise the way her heart softened at Theron’s unintentional show of confidence in their friendship. Jonas stared at her keenly; his eyes narrowed in scrutiny as though he was wondering what it was about her that Theron thought he could trust. When his eyes lingered overlong, she worried there was a small chance he might see through her, and glean how deeply she cared for their mutual friend. She turned her eyes to the datapad in her hand as though that object was the most fascinating object in the room to avoid his eyes.

Karus Jan’s datapad, loaned by her to Theron four months ago, rested in her hand. The beleaguered datapad had a new gash running down the center of its silver back. Her fingertips traced the fresh jagged laceration; the marks were a twin to the scar on Theron’s abdomen. Evie turned a questioning look to Jonas. 

“He had it on him the night that...” Jonas’ voice trailed off with a note of genuine fear. “Well, I think you can guess. The blade would have gone straight through if this hadn’t been in his pocket. He was more concerned about the circuit damage to the datapad than his organ damage. Spent most of his recovery time rebuilding it piece by piece. Now he calls it his ‘good luck charm.’ Didn’t realize it belonged to you,” 

Her posture softened; her fingers retraced the line of the datapad thoughtfully. If she hadn’t loaned it to him, Theron would have died in the attack. The thought troubled her, but not as much as the realization that Theron, who had a large assortment of data pads of varying shapes and sizes of his own, elected to keep her datapad, the one with the record of their shared history, on his person wherever he went. Her face melted into a faltering smile, touched by the unspoken gesture of...what? She didn’t know what to call it. 

“Usually,” Jonas began diplomatically. “I’m very good at reading people—it’s a gift—but you’re a different story. With your brains and your virtually unreadable pretty face, you’d make a killing at the gambling tables on Nar Shaddaa. For instance, that smile I just saw might mean you’re thinking about driving a knife into my back or...”

“Or what?”

“Or somewhere beneath that frosty Imperial ice, Theron’s caused a thaw,” 

Evie’s eyes snapped up to his face with a flash of fear. She expected to see a jest on his lips and a twinkle in his eye but instead saw soft, empathetic, compassionate lines. Her voice came out in high pitched squeaks of denial that in no way resembled words. After several false starts, she managed a weak sort of ‘tut’ which was not the stirring rebuke she was hoping for. Pull yourself together, Evie! He used an old interrogation technique, meant to thrust the interrogation subject into an uncomfortable situation by making a wild, baseless accusation and seeing if it would stick. Jonas Balkar, it appeared, was much smarter than she initially gave him credit for. This was the last time that she would underestimate an SIS agent. 

Her options were limited—deny it (she didn’t trust her voice to make the performance convincing), lie, or the third and most terrifying option of all: admit that Jonas saw something in her that she lacked the courage to admit to herself. She debated all three options before a fourth, previously unconsidered option occurred to her —distraction.

“You’re very invested in Theron’s life, Mr. Balkar,” She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side to study him. “Why is that?” 

“I’m his friend,” 

“Yes, but I don’t know many people who would go to the trouble to be this dedicated to meddling in their friend’s life. Would it be because you are bored with your own life and are looking to seek fulfillment elsewhere?”

His mouth dropped open to argue, then, he considered her point in a moment of unrealized self-actualization, and acknowledged the truth with a nod. 

“You might have a point, but that’s not why I’m involved.” He rubbed his face tiredly and unleashed a rare genuine smile as he sighed in admission. “The truth is, Theron is less of a friend and more like a younger brother. He doesn’t have family, so I’ve made it my mission to wreak havoc in his life where I can and to watch his six,” 

“And which person am I speaking with now? The mischief-maker, or the watchful elder brother?” 

“The friend,” He hesitated before he launched into the next sentence. “The friend who worries that Theron may be sweet on a woman who doesn’t feel the same way. He’s been down that path before with an Imperial spy—she broke his heart. I’d hate to watch that happen again,” 

Evie took a thoughtful last sip of Caf. Jonas was obnoxious, arrogant, presumptuous, and a dedicated friend. It didn’t make her trust him, but she could see herself, from this point forward, being able to be in the same room with him without a nagging sense of disgust. 

Evie set the mug on the table and tucked Karus Jan’s datapad into her vest pocket. 

“If you see Theron before I do, will you thank him for the Caf?” 

“I will.” Jonas paused with a frown. “Hey wait a minute, you didn’t answer my question,”

“SIS interrogation handbook chapter two, Mr. Balkar. You might want to try reading it some time—I for one found it remarkably insightful. When avoiding a question you don’t wish to answer, answer that question with a question,” She fought a smile at his slack-jawed appearance at being duped then softly confessed: ”you are not the only person who ‘watches Theron’s six’ as you so aptly put it. You can draw your own conclusions about the why,”

“That’s a dangerous choice, Red,” He folded his arms with a playful look. “What if I decide the ’why’ is that you’re in love with him and that you’re doing everything in your power to fight it?”

Evie’s comm beeped in the heavy silence that fell between them. 

“Excuse me, I simply must take this,” 

Evie didn’t meet his eyes as she ushered herself out of the safe house with a flush burning her cheeks, and the taste of Theron’s excellent Caf lingering on her tongue. 

Once outside, she gratefully found a quiet corner in between two large stacks of shipping containers and answered the call. A droid appeared enshrouded in blue. 

“Warning,” It said in a monotone voice. “Adequate encryption has not been verified. Transmission interception is possible. Please confirm identity—I’m authorized only to speak with—the Red Blade,” 

Odd. Was this another one of Theron’s attempts to tease her? She fought a hopeful smile. 

“This is the Red Blade,” 

“Identity confirmed. Master Blade, Mr. Jeeg awaits you at the attached coordinates. Please arrive at the coordinates with all haste. Come alone,” 

The smile drained from Evie’s cheeks at the mention of Jeeg’s name. A handful of people knew of her time as The Red Blade on Hutta—Theron, Kaliyo, and Lana. None of them knew about her handler Jeeg. She tucked her comm into her belt grimly; it could only mean one thing: the Empire, specifically the Minister himself, had found her. Her short taste of freedom was gone. Her bargain with the Minister in exchange for Theron’s life was contingent upon her death. Now that he knew she was alive, what would the consequences be? She reviewed the coordinates with a knot in her stomach; then set off in the direction of the Blaster’s Path Cantina. 

In the darkest back room of the Cantina, he lurked like an ominous spider, creeping in the shadows watching her every move as she entered. The Minister of Intelligence stepped into the single pool of light in the room with his hands tucked behind his back. The low light gleamed off his balding hairline. He managed a sneer, simpering and wicked. All at once, Evie was nine again, trapped in her prison cell at the mercy of his whims. Bile and fear choked her throat, she swallowed it down, and she forced a show of courage that she did not possess. He tapped two buttons on his bracers with an impervious air.

“We’re now two meters deep behind an Umbaran jamming field. Now no one can hear us talk,” He began as he surveyed her with a clinical air. 

“And no one can hear you scream,” 

It wasn’t meant to be a subtle reminder of what she was prepared to do if he tried any of his manipulative tricks. His thin lips curled into a snarl. 

“Come, come, Cipher. That’s no way to greet an old friend. Now, if I remember correctly, the last time I laid eyes on you, you were buried under six meters of durasteel. You look remarkably well for a dead woman. Life as a Cipher Agent without a home suits you,” 

“Yes, it’s remarkable what the freedom to make your choices can do for your health. I’ve found it gives my skin a certain kind of glow,” 

“Is the glow from your freedom or the company you keep?” 

Evie’s alarm rose three-fold. She struggled to keep her expression neutral. The Minister didn’t need to mention Theron by name; the thinly-veiled threat lingered in the air between them. 

“The last I heard, the Sith Council had voted to give you the noose. It’s a pity the Sith lack conviction,” 

“Yes, I think that might have had something to do with the documents that I threatened to release if they carried through with their sentence. So they allowed me the chance to enter into early retirement,”

“Sounds very straightforward,” 

“Very. Incidentally, though it is not the sole purpose of our meeting, some of those documents and information I threatened to release pertain to you, and certain members of your family,” 

What did he mean members of her family? There was nothing about her family that would interest the Sith council. They were common nobodies--mere insects to be crushed to glorify the Empire. 

“What is the purpose of our meeting?” She asked with a note of impatience and an arched defiant brow. 

He was taunting her about her family—it was one of the weakest chinks in her armor. The Minister was a master of finding an open wound and exploiting it as a tool of distraction. She focused her mind, did not allow it to stray down the path of curiosity about her family, and instead, used her eyes to observe him. 

The lines of the passage of time carved deep crevices into his skin; he was a good deal thinner than the last time she saw him, and his skin was tinted yellow. He looked frail, and for the first time in their twenty-year acquaintance, he looked humbled. 

“You’re here because I need a favor,” He put a hand up to stop her from immediately spitting in his face. 

“Given what you did when I took your orders, what makes you think I would volunteer for anything you propose?” 

Evie shot out of her chair in disgust. The nerve of the man! He was responsible for the demise of her father, the imprisonment of her mother, for stealing away two decades of her life—she owed him nothing. With her hands balled into fists, she was halfway across the room when he unloaded his verbal detonator. 

“To start with, we have a shared interest—Shara Jenn, former Keeper and Watcher Two,” 

Evie stopped dead in her tracks—it was the sole person from her Intelligence past that treated her with any dignity, a person who offered her kindness and not retribution. She turned, folded her arms, and tilted her head to the right to listen with extraordinary caution. 

“Go on,” 

“After the Star Cabal’s dissolution, Shara was unwell. The damage to her brain after the Cabal’s trap had been considerable,” 

“I remember her medical droid; she had trouble speaking,” 

She recalled Shara’s confusion, the small shakes to her head while she attempted to put names to the faceless members of the Star Cabal. 

“Add to that her conditioning. She was programmed for loyalty, and you had her working a rogue operation,” 

The accusation stung; Evie didn’t consider when she recruited Shara that the mission might cost her health. She swallowed her shame and accepted that she’d made another choice that put a dear ally at risk. The Minister continued, ruthless in his description of the way that Evie’s defiance of the Empire had cost Shara her mind. 

“Your little stunt aggravated her existing cognitive and existing psychogenic trauma. She’s fortunate she didn’t become a vegetable. During Lord Malgus’ uprising and the events that followed, she was unable to protect herself,” 

“What happened?” 

“She was captured by the Republic. I intend to free her. I’ve already made arrangements. She was frozen in carbonite for prison transport. Pirates raided the transport,” 

Evie’s mind worked quickly to piece together the Minister’s intent. 

“And now the cargo has been brought to Rishi,” 

“Precisely,” There was a faint trace of admiration behind the dead, lifeless darkness of his eyes. “The final step is to retrieve the body and erase all evidence. No one can know what happened. I intend to negotiate Shara’s purchase from the Raiders. While I do, I need you to provide leverage and cover our trail.”

“It won’t be a problem. What kind of leverage am I providing?” 

The Minister was not to be trusted; the odds that she was walking into a trap were astronomical, but leaving Shara to spend the rest of her life in the agony of a Republic prison was not a decision she could live with. For Shara’s sake, she’d put aside her reservations to help, but not without her eyes opened wide, and her hand firmly on the hilt of her vibroknife. 

“To begin with, I suggest you slice the Raider’s files and send the data to me. That should facilitate negotiations,”

“I’m sure they’ve made indiscretions we can use. Then what?”

“You’ll have the frequency to listen in. You know how this works. We can rendezvous here once I’ve acquired the Carbonite.”

“Alright, let’s bring Shara home,” 

 

Evie returned to the Blaster’s Path eagerly; it’d been a long time since she’d seen Shara. Evie swallowed away her guilt with a heavy heart. In her haste to beat the Star Cabal and retrieve the Black Codex, she never considered the consequences of her actions. Shara had significantly suffered as a direct result of her choices. The rescue was small recompense in a much larger debt. 

The Minister stood next to the holoterminal, in mid-conversation with a person who resembled Shara from a distance. 

“Am I...am I on a starship?” Shara asked him faintly. 

Evie’s limbs shook with righteous indignation. Treacherous snake! She stalked into the room with her blaster drawn. 

“My apologies, if you’ll excuse me. Hold transmission, silence audio,” The Minister was calm; if he noticed the blaster, he did not indicate alarm. 

“You said we’d all meet back here,” 

Evie’s finger hovered over the trigger with a quaking hand. She wanted to do it; swift vengeance for her family, for the people he betrayed, and now for Shara. He deserved to suffer, to wallow in his failures as she had been forced to do. He put his hands up slowly; his haughty, defiant eyes dared her to do it. 

“Yes, I lied. She’s on her way to a private medical facility. I couldn’t be sure you’d approve,” 

“We both have her best interest at heart. Or am I wrong about that?” Evie smiled mirthlessly; her arm never wavered. 

Of course, he would pretend to have Shara’s best interest at heart. This man, shrewd, unfeeling, corpse-like in his coldness could never honestly care for another living soul. If he was sending Shara away, it was for his sole benefit. 

“Shara will be cared for by a group of richly compensated medics and scientists. In a very slow and regrettably painful process, the damage to her brain will be repaired and her loyalty programming undone,” 

Remorse shook his voice, the mask slipped, and sadness cloaked his face in heavy shadow. Her mind traveled to her first day of the Imperial academy. The Minister’s first lesson was about the four rules for survival as an operative—the rules that had thus far, kept her alive while they also kept her alone. ‘No person,’ He warned her ‘was worth the price of caution. Make one slip, and you will be exploited...’ She was staring at her future; if she continued on her current trajectory, one day she might be standing in a room, alone with no connection to the world while Temple held her at blaster-point. Of all the emotions that surged through her chest, pity outweighed the rest. He was a self-righteous bastard who risked everything at the end of his career to protect Shara. While Evie could never forgive him for his crimes against her, she did understand him. Little by little, she lowered her blaster. 

“You can do that?”

“My people say that it should be possible. When she is free, I have advised her not to rejoin the Empire’s service and to make a life away from conflict. She’s never had that chance before. Talk to her if you like, say your goodbyes,”

With a tap to his bracers, he unmuted the transmission and stepped away from the terminal to offer them privacy. Evie drew a trembling breath. 

“Shara? Do you recognize me?” 

“Are you concerned about hibernation blindness or the brain damage? Of course, I recognize you. The former minister says you helped me. Thank you,” 

“I should be the one thanking you. You saved my life, and I repaid you with suffering. I’m sorry,” Evie’s voice was thick with regret. 

“This is a softer side of you, Cipher,” Shara teased with a wry smile. “I can’t say that I wholly approve of the change; it seems your time away from the field has done you some good. Perhaps it will do the same for me, though, if I’m candid, I don’t want them to recondition me,” 

“You and I both know why you’re saying that. If you could want your freedom, the programming wouldn’t be very effective,”

“I’ll be alright; I just don’t know who I am without...” Shara’s voice faded away. 

The phrase echoed in her mind like she was walking through a tunnel. Shara’s fear about her lack of identity beyond the one that Intelligence had molded was the nagging sentiment that weighed at her heart all morning. She signed her life away to the Empire at the age of nine, been conditioned to fight, to ruthlessly murder, to drive away human connection. Without her four rules, the oppressive stability of the Empire, who was she?

“It’s a knee-jerk reaction, clinging to the past. Your future and the freedom to decide what to do with it is extraordinary and terrifying gift. You’re the smartest, most courageous person I’ve ever met, and you’re very good and solving mysteries. I have every confidence you’ll figure it out,” 

Shara’s spine stiffened with the application of praise, and she cleared her throat with an abrupt ‘harrumph.’ Evie fought the urge to grin; though neither of them was a part of Imperial intelligence any longer, there were some norms of behavior that were difficult to shake. The cloying emotion had crossed the line into the realm of impropriety and a firm boundary needed to be quickly reinstated. 

“I hope we’ll have the opportunity to work together again soon,” 

“I hope so too. Call me Evie,” 

“No, I won’t do that—wouldn’t be proper. Goodbye, Cipher,” 

The transmission faded; Evie’s grin disappeared with it. Behind her, the Minister politely cleared his throat. The safety that Shara’s presence offered diminished. Without their common goal to unite them, they were enemies once more. Her hand reached for the hilt of her blaster as she slowly turned to face him to find that his actions mirrored her own, except, his blaster had a silencer attached to the barrel. 

“Now that we’ve rescued Shara, our business together is concluded. There’s no need for either of us to cross paths again,” 

“Not quite. I need to give you a warning,” 

“Out of the goodness of your heart?” 

“Out of courtesy, from one professional to another,” He lowered his blaster slightly but kept it trained at her stomach. A single shot at that angle and she’d bleed internally, a slow, painful death. “You should know that the Sith Council is well aware of her your betrayal and that Darth Marr is displeased with your lack of loyalty. More importantly, they know that you’re still in possession of the Black Codex,” 

Evie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He might have been attempting to lure her into revealing whether it was actually in her possession. 

“The Codex was destroyed along with the rest of the Star Cabal’s ship,” 

He laughed with a crackling, wheezing, joyless sound. 

“You have many exceptional skills, Cipher; your ability to lie isn’t one of them—I blame myself for not training you properly. Whatever Lana Beniko has promised you, the Council is aware of the contract you made with the Empire for Agent Shan’s life, and they are prepared to reinstate it unless you give them the Black Codex. Were I still your superior officer, I’d advise you to incinerate the data before it is too late,” 

“I suppose I have you to thank for making them aware of my contract’s existence,” 

“For once, no. It appears that we have a common enemy,” 

“The extent you will go to distance yourself from your crimes is staggering,” 

“If you don’t heed my warning, every person you call your friend will be destroyed,” He snapped with an uncharacteristic sharp tone. ”The galaxy will perish,”

“Very well, I’m listening,” 

The Minister lowered his voice and did a quick scan of his bracers to ensure that the jamming field was still in place. 

“How much do you know about your brother’s death?” 

The question stole her voice away; the air ripped out her lungs. How did he know about Luckha? Not once in their twenty-year alliance was the story of her brother’s passing discussed. 

“How do you—“ 

“Have you never wondered why it was, that out of all the spies in the service of the Republic on Alderaan, that your family was the one that was targeted by the Empire. Your family died for what they knew,” 

“Why are you telling me this? What did they know?”

“I’ve been following your investigation into the remaining members of the Star Cabal’s organization. Of all the agents in the galaxy, you are the only person I have faith in to stop the evil plans of a dangerous man. They call him the Twilight King, a sleeper agent buried deep within the network of the SIS. Every underhanded deed, assassination, war, secret society, begins and ends with him—including the death of your family. These are conjectures, of course, based on the evidence that has come across my desk—I’ve never been able to prove his existence or his identity,” 

Evie’s mind jumped to her investigation into the Revanites activities, into their connection to the Star Cabal. At last, after months of searching, she had a lead. 

“If you knew about this agent, why did you not follow these leads yourself?” 

“I wasn’t sure of the connection until your disappearance six months ago and, unlike yourself, I lack any serious influence or connection to members of the SIS to investigate further. If you want to stop The Twilight King, prevent the galaxy from tearing itself apart due to his influence, I suggest that you dig further into the untimely demise of your brother. I’ve lingered too long and said more than I should. His agents and spies are everywhere—proceed with caution and whatever you do—trust no one,” 

 

Evie took a sharp turn down an alley off of the Black Market. The footsteps, a massive pair of boots judging from the sound, thudded after her down the dock. She quickened her pace sticking to the shadows cast by the afternoon sun. She did a quick check over her shoulder as she rounded the corner of the alley; her eyes caught the toe of a pair of overly polished boots. Her feet broke into a run—dodging through shoppers, and weaving her way through vendor stalls before eyeing a series of tall crates. Desperate to get away, she slid in between them and tucked herself as far into the corner as she possibly could. The boots thumped by and slowly faded into the distance. Based on the shoes, she suspected it was another Nova Blade thug out to intimidate her. The hair on her neck had stood on end from the moment she left the Mandalorians encampment; they probably trailed her from Torch’s island. Or, was it possible that this was one of the henchmen of the mysterious Twilight King? 

She unleashed an indelicate snort at the racing thoughts that tore through her mind. What was more likely, was that the Minister was sent to offer her a false trail to take her off of the scent of the Revanites. He mentioned her family because he knew her weaknesses. Still, the idea that her family had not died in vain infected her mind like a poison. Was it possible that in his time with the Republic special forces that Luckha had stumbled across something he shouldn’t? The theory had merit; she would have to investigate more closely. If Theron was willing, he might be able to access Luckha’s records and find out more information. She was bursting at the seams to talk to him and share everything she had learned. Evie rounded the corner to the safe house, and slipped inside before anyone luring outside could take notice. 

Jakarro’s furious roars echoed with deafening fury down the hall, followed by hushed tones. 

“I understand your frustration Jakarro, but there’s only so much of your bluster I’m prepared to take,” Lana’s smooth voice drifted around the corner. 

Evie entered; all voices fell silent. Jakarro paced the room; Lana refused to meet her eyes. Jonas sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands in the corner of the room. As her eyes drank in the scene, she noted there was one conspicuous absence from their roster. 

“What’s going on?” 

The silence was electrifying; Jonas lifted his head from his chest and gave her a grim shake of his head. Evie’s eyes searched his in fear; the color drained from her face. A pit, heavy and stone-like formed in her stomach; the next question wrenched itself from her throat with trembling dread. 

“Where is Theron?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Apologies for the slow progress on this chapter. I wrote myself into a hole in the last chapter and had to dig myself out. Thanks for being patient. 
> 
>  
> 
> Coming up next: Jonas Balkar narrates the next chapter.


	18. The Balkar Observations

The question remained unanswered, the silence punctuated by Jakarro’s mournful whines while the room radiated the foul stench of betrayal. The perpetrator stood to his right; aloof, golden head tossed back with unflinching rigid defiance. Jonas fixed Lana with a livid stare with lifted eyebrows, daring her to own her crime. 

“Is he dead?” Evie prompted; her shoulders stiffened as though bracing for a punishing blow. 

Jonas extended his hand to Lana, a caustic ‘after you’ to emphasize his displeasure with her betrayal. He wanted her to say it—he wanted her to admit that she betrayed Theron.

“Theron’s been captured by the Revanites. They ambushed us at the safe house,” 

“That’s not the whole story,” The words exited his mouth in a rushed venomous snarl. “Tell Evie how it happened, Lana—she deserves to know,” 

Jonas leaned back into his chair, folded his arms, and awaited the explanation. Oh, this ought to be rich, coming from a Sith. He wanted to see how she’d dance around the truth. Theron was captured by the Revanites because she allowed it to happen. Jakarro had the Revanite attackers dead to rights with his blaster, and she deliberately sabotaged the shot through the Force or whatever mumbo-jumbo nonsense the Sith believed in. Imperials lacked a moral center; this was doubly true for the Sith. Treaties were struck, then ignored. Lines firmly drawn were crossed—it was part of their essence, an element for their survival, as vital to them as oxygen. 

“I stand by my decision not to impede in Theron’s abduction and I know Theron would too. Now he’s in the position to do what he does best,” 

“Yeah, getting himself into situations that can get him killed. Did you forget what they did to him last time?” Jonas shot back at Lana testily. He was up and out of his chair, feet restless with anger and the driving need to do something—anything productive. 

“Where I come from, we value our allies. We do not let them become imprisoned,” Jakarro added with a tremendous roar. 

Lana drew herself up to her full height and opened her mouth to argue. 

“Enough—Lana’s right,”

A hush fell over the room; all eyes turned toward Evie, Lana’s lone champion. Another betrayal—it shouldn’t have shocked him, but it did. Was this a conspiracy of Imperials—a method of doing away with SIS operatives? Were Evie and Lana co-conspirators, deep cover Revanite operatives, and was he their next target? Jonas’ eyes nervously darted to Evie’s row of knives on her belt. He counted the knife sheaths around her belt—all were present and accounted for. There was some relief—he wouldn’t unexpectedly find one of those in his back. Still, he didn’t know who he could trust. Lana’s position was firmly in the ‘no’ category. Jakarro’s loyalty to Theron was unimpeachable, but Evie remained a mystery. There was no way of knowing unless...He seized on an idea, an almost cruel interrogation method from chapter three of the SIS interrogation handbook. 

“You can’t be serious,” Jonas countered with a feigned small flash of temper. “You know what they’re doing to him as we speak, what they will do to him. If you think what Lana did was right, then it’s obvious that you care more about protecting a fellow Imperial than you do about him. Then again, I don’t know why I’m surprised. This isn’t the first time you’ve betrayed him on behalf of the Empire, is it?” 

That did it—the ice broke. Evie’s skin went from cadaverous to a violent shade of scarlet that matched her hair. Fingers curled into fists; her body trembled with righteous indignation as she took two steps forward to confront him. Small in stature as she was, her glare exuded explosions of fire and brimstone from the depths of her eyes, making her presence larger than life. Jonas’ feet took a step back in alarm despite his brains explicit instructions that he should hold his ground. His surgical words were meant to inflict pain and incite a reaction—and what a reaction it was. The wall between them dropped; he saw in her anger that whatever her motivation for siding with Lana, her loyalty to Theron was almost without question. Jonas gave a satisfied sniff of relief—not a Revanite at least—she still lost points for being an Imperial, however.

Evie’s teeth bit into her bottom lip until it was white and she did not look him in the eye while she took several calming breaths. Her demonstrated restraint was a lesson in self-mastery. Admirable; he was curious about what would happen when she finally lost control. 

“Lana’s taken a pragmatic risk—one that she’s decided she can live with—whether we agree with that decision is inconsequential. The longer we continue to bicker amongst ourselves like children, the lower our chances are of rescuing Theron alive and stopping Revan before it’s too late,” 

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving him with the Revanites. After all, we need to know what he’s learned whilst in captivity,” Lana rushed to change the subject. “Hopefully you faired better with the Mandalorians,” 

“Yes, Revan remains the priority,” Evie flinched, a minute tick around the eyes—the words pained her as she said them. “My visit was fruitful—Revan has a fleet of warships on stand by,” 

Lana snapped her fingers, her features brightened visibly. 

“Of course. Now it all makes sense. I’ve been examining the Revanite’s data; it appears they are attempting to lure the Imperial and Republic fleets here to Rishi,” 

“So the Republic and Empire are drawn into a full scale battle. Whoever’s left standing the Revanites pick off. I’ve seen this method before,” 

“We still don’t know who we can trust,” Lana fixed Jonas with a pointed stare as she spoke. “We need to interfere with the Revanite’s plan if not stop them outright,” 

Ceetoo’s vocoder broke into the verbal fray. 

“I know where they are. I was able to pinpoint the origin of several communication from a different island; the coordinates point to the location of several hidden bases. We can collaborate with the Rishi. I’m sure they’ll welcome us,” 

“Then it’s decided, we’ll split our efforts. I’ll handle the bases, see if I can’t discover where Revan is hiding,” 

Jakarro laid a soft paw on her arm and gave a mournful growl. 

“What of Agent Shan?” Ceetoo inquired on Jakarro’s behalf. Evie covered his paw with her smaller hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’ll bring him back alive—you have my word,” 

 

By sunset, their plans were firm, and their new base of operations, a Rishii hut with a roaring fire at its center, was suitably outfitted with the proper tech to carry out recon missions. Jonas saw to the calibrations of the data terminal himself, admittedly much slower than what Theron would have managed. Five hours; Theron’s implants could easily mitigate the pain for up to ten. They’d never been tested beyond that—the experiment subjects all collapsed from dehydration and exhaustion past the ten hour marker. Jonas swallowed hard; his eyes drifted to Evie, who was having a quiet conversation with an elderly crew member. Snatches of the conversation reached his ears. 

“Let me go with you,” 

Evie gave an emphatic shake of her head. 

“Absolutely not, Doctor, you’re needed here. I don’t know what I’ll find in those bunkers. If they’re as heavily fortified as the Rishii say, then you may have two for patching. Besides, we’re dangerously low on medical supplies. I need you to find whatever stores are left in Raider’s Cove and bring them here,”

“It won’t be pretty. With this amount of time passed, the odds of his survival, even if he’s as good of an agent as you say, are slim to none. You could die trying to rescue a corpse,” 

The doctor’s voice faded away. The roaring fire in the center of the hut crackled and popped in the heavy silence. 

“I have to try. If our situations were reversed, he’d do the same for me,” 

“More, actually,” Jonas interjected with a meaningful smile that was a half-hearted attempt at an apology. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear. You’re going after Theron—I want in,” 

“You have a bloody cheek if you think I’d work with you after what you said earlier,” Evie shot back with a brittle tone. 

Aha, so the impenetrable facade had a weak spot; his words struck a nerve. Jonas fought the urge to smile. 

“I wouldn’t be offering my help if I didn’t want to atone for what I said,”

“Even if I required your help, you forgot one crucial tidbit—I work alone,” 

Evie pulled her blaster strap onto her shoulder with a decisive huff; in her mind, the matter was settled. 

“Yes, Theron mentioned that in passing while we were raiding the Nova Blade camp,” 

The conversation in question involved Theron nearly tearing his hair out with worry while she raced headlong into a group of heavily armed pirates. 

“It’s too dangerous. You’ll get yourself killed,” 

“You may not have noticed, but I’m a spy. I’ve seen my fair share of danger,” 

“I’m a spy,” She corrected. “You’re an SIS Agent,” 

“Theron’s my best friend. What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t try to rescue him? Like you said earlier ‘he’d do the same for me,’” 

His honesty was rewarded with an appraising look from Evie. She had a keen stare, unnerving, as though she were able to with one glance, strip him down to his core and see what he was made of. 

“You’d trust me not to betray you?” 

“No—but I don’t trust anybody. Besides, I thought the galaxy’s second-best agent would recognize the third chapter in the SIS handbook on interrogation,”

A slow grin spread to Jonas’ lips while she searched her mental files for the correct chapter. 

“You were testing to see if I was a Revanite,” Realization broke upon her face like dawn broke across the skyline; a small half-smile of admiration crept to her lips. 

“After Lana’s betrayal, I had to be sure who I was working with. By my estimation we have five hours to get to Theron before the damage becomes permanent,” 

“We? There is no ‘we,’ Mr. Balkar...” Her voice trailed off. He threw in a charming flutter of his eyelashes and a pleading look for good measure to seal the deal. “Fine—come along, but I have some conditions,” 

“Call me Jonas and name your terms,” 

“One: You will not interfere with my methods; I’m the one who makes the plans. Two: You will stop calling me ‘Red.’ Cipher Nine is the only acceptable moniker you may use from this point forward. And three: if the worst should happen or if we are split up your top priority is to get Theron out. Leave Revan to me,” 

“I agree to all your terms except for one. You let Theron call you ‘Red’, but not me. Why is that, I wonder?” 

Evie rolled her eyes to the ceiling while she covertly counted to ten. 

“I’m going to regret this,” She sighed with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Jonas threw a lazy arm around her shoulders, which she promptly pushed away with disgust. 

“Yes...” Jonas pushed out his lower lip at her with mock pity. “It’s going to be so much fun!” 

 

The Revanite base hummed with activity. From their vantage point high above on the rocks beside a roaring waterfall, the workers looked like insects dotting the landscape.

“Inverness said that the Republic Revanites would have more information about Revan’s whereabouts. There’s too many of them for two of us to handle. I think a more delicate touch is in order,” 

“I like the sound of that,” He waggled his eyebrows at her with a suggestive smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Evie blew a stray curl out of her face with exasperation and fixed him with a glowering stare. 

“Fewer jokes,” She deadpanned as she shoved the macrobinoculars back into her pack. “You’re remarkably flippant for a man who’s best friend is under threat of death,” 

“We’re all going to die some day. Might as well laugh about it...” His voice trailed off when he caught a glimpse of the horrified expression she was attempting to hide. “Sorry, force of habit. The tension builds up; jokes keep me focused so the nerves don’t cloud my judgment,” 

He knew the odds. The survival rate of a non-Force sensitive human against a Sith Lord of immeasurable power was slim to none. Then again, Theron faced tougher odds on a regular basis and came out on top—always said being that close to death reminded him of why he was alive. He hoped this mission wasn’t the exception. 

“The jokes are a pressure valve,” Evie aptly summarized his point in a remarkably perceptive manner. 

Her irritated scowl softened, her voice was gentle, and for a brief moment, they looked at each other and found they stood on common ground. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you of all people understand. I imagine Imperials are experts in this field, what with the way that you all bottle it all up. Not a lot of room for emotions to escape between the starched creases of those uniforms,” 

“If SIS agents put a little more starch into squelching their emotions and spent a little less time with their hair gel, you might be working for a more reputable agency,” 

Their field agents did put a lot of stock of maintaining outward appearances but hearing her point it outsmarted. He ran a self-conscious hand through his hair and tousled it with his fingers. Maybe she was right—it was time to go easier on the goop. 

“Ouch. Target eliminated. I can see why Theron is so taken with you. You’re exactly his type,” 

“Smart?” 

“Deadly,” He replied with a dry smile. “How would you like to approach the bunker?” 

 

They crept under cover of stealth through the Revanite camp. Evie was singularly focused; her eyes were set on the bunker. Jonas used the opportunity to gain recon. Even at their quick clip, he was able to count the number of heavily fortified warships—enough to take on and handily defeat the Republic fleet, just in this one encampment. How many more camps like this one exist? 

When they reached the door to the bunker, she stopped so abruptly he nearly ran into her. 

“I have one more condition before we begin,” Evie examined the dirt lined cuffs of her jacket, unable to meet his eyes. “If our plan should fail and the Revanites capture me, I want you to stay under stealth and shoot me. Think you can manage that?” 

His mouth dropped open immediately in protest before his brain processed the request. If two agents fell into the hands of Revan, both with intimate knowledge of their investigation—the condition was logical, heroic even. 

“Theron may not have mentioned it, but I’m not one to follow orders when I don’t agree with them,” 

To his surprise, she smiled. 

“Yes, he told me you both chopped quite a lot of onions as punishment for it,” 

“And he never forgave me for it—I’ll do what you ask but as a last resort. If there are other options, I’ll try those first—and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” 

Evie nodded in resignation, recognizing that this wasn’t a fight she could win. They tucked themselves into a nearby corner, and she disabled the stealth belt. Jonas watched with fascination—why was it that the Imperials had all the good toys?  
She handed the belt over to him reluctantly, she must have seen his covetous stares, then pressed a button to activate it. 

Evie positioned herself unnoticed at the top of the stairs to wait for the right moment to strike. A small group of Revanites assembled at the bottom of the stairs in a circle. One voice carried loudly over the others. 

“There have been reports of skirmishes in the area. I want you to stay alert for anything out of the ordinary,” 

Evie gave a polite cough to interrupt the proceedings. 

“Such as?” 

Her stance was casual, hip popped, eyes examining gloves, wry, sardonic expression around the mouth. It was more audacious move than what they discussed before they entered the camp, but that didn’t surprise him. The Revanites scrambled, each looking as though they’d seen a ghost. There was a clatter of blasters, muffled swear words. Jonas brought his blaster up, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. 

“By the stars! Be ready to fire on my mark,” 

She put a hand up to stop them with the same breezy untroubled air and adopted a conspiratorial, gossipy tone. Her commanding presence stayed their blasters. 

“You should be more worried about the saboteurs Lord Inverness ordered to infiltrate your camp,” 

There was a murmur of confusion; the Revanites traded uneasy glances. Their leader smirked at Evie, unperturbed. 

“Nice try, but I don’t buy it. Inverness wouldn’t turn against the cause,” 

Evie paused and shifted her position with a subtle hint of uncertainty. This wasn’t going to work. If they failed Theron was as a good as dead, and he would have to shoot Evie. If Theron survived, Evie would be dead, and his best friend would never forgive him. He tightened his grip on his blaster reluctantly and aimed for her head. It was a clean shot, painless. 

“Inverness asked me to help him, but I’m looking after the greater good,” 

She kept her voice low, added a look over her shoulder for good measure, as though imparting a well-guarded secret. 

“You’re a Revanite?” The Revanite leader asked in disbelief. “I thought I would have been informed. Go! Get everyone on the lookout for movement from the Imperials,”

All of the Revanites scrambled for the door to the bunker, frantically grabbing weapons as they went. The corners of Evie’s lips tipped up in a brief moment of triumph. The leader turned his attention back to her and the smile faded. 

“Inverness must be looking around for Theron Shan—to use him against you somehow,” 

Her voice was even; she appeared almost bored by the question — not the smoothest of interrogation transitions, but in the interest of time, necessary. Jonas held his breath—if this didn’t work, they were at square one. The Revanite leader blinked in confusion. 

“What? No. He’s well-aware that Shan’s in the valley strong hold. I’m going to have words with Inverness when all this is over,”

Jonas exhaled in triumphant relief—she did it. 

“I’d recommend letting your blaster do the talking for you. Now, step to. By my calculations Inverness and his men will be here shortly,” 

The Revanite leader saluted without question, not realizing that he was taking orders from an Imperial agent with no associations with the Revanites. It was her demeanor—the sharpness of the expression that commanded obedience and attention. No wonder the SIS struggled in their fight to capture her—she was as good as the files said. 

The moment the room was clear, Evie was on her comm in a flash. 

“Lana, Theron’s being held in a valley strong hold—could be Revan is there as well,” 

“This confirms some of the intel the Rishii have given us. Get to a data terminal and give me an open line,” 

Evie’s pace quickened, her fingers flew across the keys, with moments of short hesitation while she thought about command codes. Was she not a competent slicer, or was she showing a little of the severe strain of Theron’s life hanging in the balance? 

“Try it now, Lana,” 

“I’m starting to get the hang of slicing, Theron’s influence I suppose. Give me one second. There, a holo record of Theron under interrogation...oh. Oh dear,” 

Lana inhaled sharply over the comm and fell silent as the recording echoed in the distance. Occasional screams of agony shrieked into the empty bunker and echoed off the metal roof, magnifying the suffering tenfold. Jonas wrenched his eyes closed—he knew the voice from the recording.

“Tell us what we want to know, Agent Shan,”

The transmission garbled into static briefly, before Theron’s voice rang out in defiance. 

“Go to hell,” 

“We know that you’re in league with an Imperial Agent known as Cipher Nine. She has something, files that contain important information,” 

“Never heard of her,” 

There was a gruesome crunch of bone; the yelp of pain died away to a whimper. 

“Where is the Black Codex?” 

A second unfamiliar voice interrupted. 

“He’s passed out again. Maybe you should give him a rest? He’s half-dead already,” 

“Wake him up,” 

The transmission dissolved into static. 

Evie’s hands gripped the edge of the data terminal until her knuckles turned white. Aside from the grim set of her mouth, there was no display of emotion, no shock or dismay. Her calm demeanor betrayed nothing. Jonas expected a brief emotional outburst, some alarm or concern on her part. Did she care so little for Theron? He scrutinized her bizarre behavior more closely; finger by finger she released the data terminal. A stray curl drifted across her face—it was subtle, but as she swept it behind her ear, he caught the faint tremor of her hands. 

“Coordinates are coming your way. You’d better hurry,” Lana’s voice broke through the silence. 

“And Revan?”

“No indication he’s there, but no indication he isn’t. I wouldn’t let my guard down,” 

 

There were other telltale signs of nerves, little slips that she fought desperately not to show. It started once they left the bunker and made their way to the valley stronghold. 

“The coordinates are that way,” Jonas pointed out to her softly when she started walking in the opposite direction of where they needed to go. 

“Right, of course,” 

A slow flush of color rose to her cheeks, and as she passed him to head in the right direction, she refused to meet his eyes. The closer they drew to the stronghold, the faster her feet moved, until he broke into a jog to keep up with her. They continued at this breakneck pace, heedless of cutting branches and wandering patrols. 

“Slow down, Cipher. Watch out for the—“Jonas called after her breathlessly. 

She was so deep in thought that she burst through the tree line, without noticing the four-meter deep ravine below. Jonas seized her roughly by the handle of her pack and pulled her backward. She whirled around to give him a furious rebuke. He pointed at the ravine with an exasperated look. Her head swiveled from the ravine back to Jonas in shock. It was clear that the holo recording left her rattled. 

“This isn’t going to work if you die in the process of trying to rescue Theron,” Jonas pointed out gently. “Look, that holo was bad—there’s no reason to lie. But I’ve known him for a long time. He’s been through worse and survived,”

Jonas put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She lifted her hand like she was going to push it away; her hand dropped on top of his, and she gave it a gentle pat. 

“I know,” She struggled to speak, her voice was tight. “They weren’t torturing him and asking him questions about you. It’s my fault he’s in so much...that he’s there...” 

“He’s there because he’s a good agent, trying to stop a madman. And we—“, Jonas gestured between the two of them. “Are going to stop the madman. Besides, I don’t think it was you who put the idea of galactic domination into Revan’s head,” 

She reminded him of his youngest sister, vulnerable and small in a moment of uncertainty while the weight of an impossible task pressed down on her conscience. Evie pulled her shoulder away from his hand—the moment was over, her fears neatly tucked away.

“How do you know I wasn’t the one who suggested galactic domination to Revan?” 

“Diabolical,” He quipped with a dry smile that quickly sobered. “You take point; I’ll watch your six. For Theron’s sake and for mine, will you try to keep yourself alive this time?” 

 

Their first few attacks as partners were clumsy and poorly timed. He moved into her path and nearly took one of her deadly poison knives to the gut. 

“Hey—watch it!” 

“Sorry,” She muttered to him. “Theron knows to stay behind me,” 

Jonas made a note of it and kept his distance, firing longer range shots with his blaster instead. He preferred closer combat—he was a steady shot, but a better brawler. The second patrol fell to their attacks with almost no casualties between them. Then it happened. His elbow made contact with something solid as he drew back his arm to throw a punch. There was a crack of bone against bone and a sharp cry of pain. 

“Oye!” She yelped with one hand over her eye. 

Evie shot the remaining Revanite soldier with her blaster with a one-eyed squint. With a wince, she lifted her hand away from the damaged eye. Jonas stepped forward tentatively to take a look at his unintentional handiwork.

“It’s not bad,” He lied with a grimace. 

He shot a guilty look at the swelling bluish welt that was forming around the socket. 

“Let me put a Kolto patch on that,” 

“No. We have a small supply of Kolto and Theron will need all of it,” 

Evie was resolute; the sentence carried a comical air as her wounded eye winked between each word. Jonas stifled a heavy sigh. When Theron saw the bruise, he’d never hear the end of it. 

By the third patrol, they found their rhythm. He shot the first two guards between the eyes (lucky shots on his part), Evie tackled the other two with a vibroknife and a poisoned dart. When the last guard fell, they turned to each other and exchanged grins. From that point forward, patrol after patrol fell to their unstoppable wake. They infiltrated the stronghold in under ten minutes. This brought Theron’s hours under torture up to a staggering total of 11 hours and ten minutes. The odds of finding Theron alive dropped to a mere 12%. He put on a brave face, he told himself, for Evie’s sake, but inwardly he prepared himself to find Theron dead. 

Evie stopped at a data terminal in the heart of the stronghold. 

“The coordinates lead to here,” 

She reached for the keys—the terminal sprang to life with a hum. A blue hologram loomed before them, large and imposing with a mask so recognizable that it struck terror in his heart. 

“Revan,” Evie and Jonas said in simultaneous horrified whispers.

“I should have known the Empire and Republic would send its lapdogs to come and find me. You should never have bothered,” 

Evie stepped forward with her blaster drawn as though she meant to shoot the hologram. She showed a rash disregard for Revan’s fabled power that would have put Theron, the most reckless agent in the whole of the SIS, to shame. 

“What have you done with Theron?” 

Fear and rage quaked in her voice; Jonas thought about her analogy of the pressure valve. Was he witnessesing the release of steam, or the explosion? 

“Theron Shan’s fate doesn’t matter. Neither does yours. I’m changing the fate of the galaxy itself,” 

“Oh good, I see that you’ve completely lost your mind,” Jonas snarked behind Evie’s back. It bothered Jonas to hear Revan say that Theron’s fate didn’t matter.

“I’m not waging some pointless war with the Empire and the Republic. I’m saving countless lives and you keep getting in the way. The only upside to you being here is that you get to bear witness. My plan is too far along for you to stop,”

Flashes of red and green blaster fire splattered against the wall closest to the door panel to their left. Evie and Jonas turned, the panel exploded into sparks. As the durasteel blast door lowered to the floor with a groan, a lone figure rolled underneath it. The figure stood, gasping, and panting for breath, draped in shades of scarlet and black. 

“Well I’ll be a Rancor’s uncle,” Jonas murmured with a relieved shake of his head. 

Theron Shan, stood before them. Well, in truth, he was bent over himself from exertion and pain. For the first time in 11 hours and twenty minutes, Jonas exhaled the breath he’d been holding. 

“Don’t listen to Revan. It’s not over—“ Cerise and gold streaked across the room accompanied by a low strangled gasp of relief. Something knocked the wind out of Theron; he wheezed out the word ‘yet’ between gritted teeth. 

Jonas blinked; his eyes widened with curious wonder. Evie Colspur—stoic, undemonstrative, pragmatic to a fault, collided with Theron’s chest with a force that almost knocked him to the ground. Her arms gripped his neck tightly, her curls smacked Theron in the face. He palmed her wild curls away from his eyes and mouth with a thinly concealed affectionate grin, thrown completely off-kilter by her uncharacteristic display. They each settled into the embrace, Theron pulled her closer and buried his face into her shoulder, his fingers gently threaded through and collected a handful of her curls, as though her hair was tangible proof that she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. 

Jonas smothered a knowing grin. In the game of wits between them, Evie inadvertently revealed her tell. She denied it, tried to hide it, and deflected his every effort to ferret out the truth. But as she gratefully sank further into Theron’s arms like a person who had been drowning and subsequently rescued, Jonas knew that Cipher Nine, scourge of the SIS, was in love with Theron Shan. 

She was the first to break the hug with a shy, furtive look at Jonas when she realized her critical error. He didn’t fight his smugness. He’d let her off the hook for now, then tease them both ruthlessly once they were out of danger. 

“Are you okay? I thought I lost you for good,” She surveyed Theron’s injuries with concern radiating from her features. 

“Yeah, sorry. Almost made it out the front door when I saw you’d shown up. You came all the way here to rescue me?” Theron asked, touched by her dedication and puzzled by it in the same breath. She leaned forward with a shy half-smile and whispered: 

“Always,” 

Theron’s face softened; this was some sort of code between them that Jonas didn’t understand but the effect of the word was immediate. Theron reached out to brush a troublesome curl away from Evie’s face. He settled it behind her ear, the palm of his hand cupped her cheek. Her face tilted up to Theron’s; Jonas smothered a gasp of delight with his hands over his mouth. At last, after being witness to Theron’s months of pining, he was about to witness an acknowledgement of the obvious, at least to Jonas anyway, feelings between them. Theron tipped his head down toward Evie’s mouth, then, he abruptly pulled his head back with a sharp frown. 

“What happened to your eye?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	19. The Spy Who Loved Him

Jonas shook his head furiously with a pleading look, begging Evie not to tell Theron the truth about his elbow’s unfortunate run-in with her left eye. 

“My eye?” Evie asked with a sideways glance at Jonas while she weighed her response. “We ran into some trouble with the Revanite patrols. One of the clumsier ones got me in the eye with their elbow,” 

Theron gave each of them a dubious expression; he wasn’t buying the lie. Based on the diagonal tilt of his mouth, Jonas predicted the next remark was a snarky observation about their suspicious behavior, but the look froze. His hand clutched his ribs as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes rolled back into his head, and with a low groan, Theron sank like a stone toward the floor. Evie and Jonas intercepted him, to soften the blow of his impact with the ground. Jonas settled Theron’s back against the data terminal while Evie frantically dug through her pouches. Theron was out cold; his forehead dripped with sweat, his skin was the color of curdled cream. Evie pulled off the cap of the Kolto injector with her teeth. 

“We need to get him to Dr. Lokin,” 

Her voice was serene; her quivering hands betrayed her fear. With a grim look to Jonas, she gingerly tilted Theron’s head to the side to gain access to an artery. His head bobbed on his neck, motionless. Spurred on by his lifelessness, she pushed the injector into his throat; her fingers drifted into the edge of his hairline to soothe the sting of the Kolto. Slowly, with startled blinks, and a steady rise in color, Theron started to revive. 

“What happened?” He murmured weakly; a ghost of a smile passed his lips as Evie’s fingertips traced his implants. 

“You collapsed,” 

“Yes, the fainting was a touch melodramatic, don’t you think, Shan?” Jonas teased as he clapped a relieved hand to Theron’s shoulder. “Do me a favor, don’t scare me like that again,” 

Theron jerked his shoulder away with a small yelp of pain. 

“It’s not so bad,” Theron ground out in a hoarse voice with his eyes and teeth clenched. “Just needed a quick nap,” 

At this distance, the superficial damage to Theron’s face made his stomach turn. Purple bruises and infected cuts lined his cheeks. On his neck, Jonas could see the festering boils of fresh burns. The rest of his wounds remained unseen. Knowing Theron, and his innate ability for attracting trouble, he was probably bleeding out as they spoke, and he would never breathe a word of complaint about it. The worst was the leg. On closer inspection, it curved at an unnatural, excruciating looking angle. 

“We don’t have much time. Revan has drawn the Imperial and Republic fleets to Rishi. Revanites embedded on both sides are going to sabotage shields, weapons you name it—and we can’t warn them. Revan had the Nova Blades build them a signal jammer. No communications at all up in Rishi space. It’ll be a bloodbath,” 

“One call to Jakarro and no more signal jammer,” Jonas suggested after giving the dilemma a moment of thought. “Jakarro and his trigger happy droid would love to have the chance to do a little damage to Revanite forces,” 

Theron drew a winded breath; his hand clutched his side as he inhaled. Jonas estimated several broken ribs, bruised organs, and quite a few hours in the Kolto tank. His eyes were dark with pain; the longer they talked, the lower his posture sank further into the ground. 

“The Revanites have that thing protected. You send Jakarro out there, and he and Deefour become part of the landscape,” 

An explosion rocked the stronghold, sending debris flying in a way that nearly knocked Evie and Jonas to the ground. Dust and a thin veil of smoke filled the room. 

“This place is coming down, soon,” Jonas exclaimed with a dubious look at the ceiling above them. “Let’s get out of here,” 

Evie and Jonas scrambled to get Theron onto his feet. They each ducked under his arms to share his weight. Theron huffed and puffed as though the very act of standing winded him; Jonas added a probably punctured lung to the steadily lengthening list of Theron’s injures. He tried to put his weight on his broken leg and drew a sharp breath between his teeth. A voice at their back interrupted. 

“You could have joined me, Theron,” 

The data terminal flashed blue; Revan reappeared ominously through the haze. Theron struggled to stand straighter; he staggered, and his knees wobbled before he steadied himself in determination. His arms slipped away from their shoulders; he positioned himself intentionally in between Revan’s line of sight and Evie. With the last of his strength, he held his head high in recalcitrance as he met the gaze of Revan’s vicious mask without fear. 

“Understandably you are as tenacious as I ever was—the curse of our bloodline. Give up the Imperial spy; you might still spare yourself some of your impending pain—the antidote is within your grasp. Think carefully,” 

“I’d rather die,” Theron spat in return, he drew a shaking shallow breath. “Do your worst,”

“If that is your will, so be it,” 

The signal went dead; Revan vanished from the room without a trace. Theron stared at the data terminal with a vacant, hollow expression. 

“Theron, we have to go,” Jonas murmured with quiet urgency as debris shook from the ceiling and tumbled around them.

Theron’s posture sagged in response, and he nearly dropped to his knees again. They were at his side in an instant.

“Mind control, that was the next step in the interrogation process—couldn’t stop them,” Fear tore across his face. “Evie they were asking questions about you,” 

“Save your strength. Try not to talk,” Evie soothed with a gentle smile that masked worry as Theron’s pain-clouded eyes met hers. 

Evie dug through the various pouches on her belt. She drew out a second Kolto injector and started to inject it into his neck. His hand reached up and gently grasped her wrist with a shake of his head. 

“They injected me with something—something weird to get me to talk. My implants can’t stop it, Kolto won’t help either. It just kicked in...I don’t know what it will make me do. I’m sorry,”

Jonas’ eyes went wide. He gripped Theron’s cheeks and tilted his head back to look at the dilation of his eyes. Jonas fought the urge to grimace—the perspiration, the width of his pupils and the color of his skin all indicated trouble—the type that he’d seen once before. 

“Kriff,” The word slipped out of Jonas’ mouth before he could stop it. 

“What do you mean, ‘kriff’? Evie demanded with a deep frown. 

Theron’s head sagged to his chest; his eyes rolled back into his head. None too gently, Jonas slapped both of Theron’s cheeks with an open palm. Theron started with a wince and drifted back into consciousness. 

“I’ve seen him like this once before. We were embedded with a squad of Imperial operatives on Taris. Our cover was blown—they slipped something into his drink to get him to talk—nasty stuff—reacts badly with the regulatory chemicals from his implants. It’s important that we keep him awake and talking for an hour,” 

“What happens if he goes unconscious before that?” 

“He might never wake up,” Jonas instructed as he pulled Theron’s weighted arm around his neck to get him up onto his feet. “Incidentally, have you ever seen Theron drunk before?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve had the privilege,” 

“I’m not drunk Balkar—you’re drunk,” Theron slurred with a lull of his head, a sharp hiccup, and an inane chuckle to himself. 

Evie’s eyes went as wide as a pair of small orbiting moons. 

“The implants usually help improve his tolerance,” Jonas began with a grunt of exertion as they struggled to keep Theron up and on his feet. Stars—the man subsisted on Caf, Whiskey, and adrenaline—why was he so heavy? “But when it comes to synthetic substances, they don’t. I predict we’ll see one of two versions of Theron Shan under the influence today. Sloshed Shan–a daredevil who will accept any bet or dare you offer him—including but not limited to streaking naked through a public plaza on Coruscant,” 

Evie wrapped Theron’s other arm more tightly around her neck as they started to crawl like a strange three-headed beast toward the door of the stronghold. 

“And the other version?” 

Theron was staring at her intensely like he’d never seen her before with a crooked, enraptured smile. 

“Balkar—who’s that?” Theron thought he was whispering in Jonas’ ear, but he practically yelled it. Jonas jerked his head away with a wince so that the sound didn’t rupture his eardrum. 

“Who are you talking about?” 

Jonas looked around the empty stronghold with a baffled expression and wondered if Theron was hallucinating. 

“The stranger,” Theron tilted his head meaningfully in Evie’s direction, in a move that in his delirious state that he considered to be subtle. “The one with the pretty hair. Are you going to introduce us? I’d like to meet her,” 

“What if I told you that you'd met her before?” Jonas returned drily; Theron gaped at him in disbelief. 

“Come on Balkar, you know I haven’t met her before, I definitely wouldn’t forget a face like that,” 

Theron’s head sagged, his voice trailed off into a few more incoherent phrases, of which, the only discernible word was ‘freckles.’ 

“I call this Sloppy Shan. Don’t take it personally that he doesn’t remember you. When he wakes up tomorrow—he won’t remember much of anything he says or does today. He’ll have drawn a very tidy blank,”

Theron stirred, then poked Jonas in the shoulder for his attention, oblivious that their conversation pertained to him. 

“Ask her what her name is,” 

Jonas rolled his eyes. Even under the influence of a potent serum Theron’s lack of confidence when it came to approaching Evie knew no limits. Theron’s head lulled backward like he was about to lose consciousness. 

“No, you don’t. Stay awake—“ Jonas gave Theron’s cheeks a rough shake with his fingers. He needed a distraction, something to keep Theron’s mind occupied on anything else other than taking a permanent nap. “Ask her yourself if you’re so curious,”

“She won’t want to talk to me,” Theron lowered his voice. “She’s gorgeous—way out of my league,” 

“Yes, but that’s all part of it,” Jonas dropped his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. “Rumor is she’s an Imperial spy. You have a duty to the SIS to interrogate her,” 

Of all the ridiculous moments of his life, Jonas thought, including the time when he was tied up in a storage closet on Port Nowhere in nothing but his kit, this had to qualify as one of the strangest. The building was collapsing around them faster than they could progress to the door. Theron, in contrast, seemed oblivious to the danger, trapped in a dream world created by a cocktail of serums. Theron’s head tipped back dangerously; Evie shook his shoulder to wake him up. 

“We need to move faster,” Evie hissed to Jonas as the durasteel above their heads began to groan in agony at the shaking. “Or we need to stop the destruction,” 

“I think I remember seeing a data terminal nearby. Just keep moving and play along. Keep him distracted. He can’t fall asleep,”

Theron swung his head around to face Evie with a fixed, swaggering smile on his face that looked more like a pained grimace. Jonas bit his cheek to keep from laughing. If they survived this, and the odds were steadily decreasing, he’d never let Theron live this down. 

“Hey,” Theron winked at her slowly; it was more like a strange twitch than the flirtatious opener that he hoped for. 

To her credit, Evie jumped into the bizarre conversation without missing a beat, adding to it an air of mock solemnity. 

“Agent Evibail Colspur, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Shan,” 

Theron’s mouth dropped open in shock. 

“You know my name?” He exclaimed in delight before he leaned toward Jonas and added in a loud voice. “Jonas, she knows my name,” 

Jonas shot Evie an apologetic look; her cheeks twitched as though she were fighting a smile beneath the layer of concern that clung to her features. 

“We met on Dromund Kaas. Do you not remember?” 

They rounded the corner of the stronghold. The data terminal was in sight; more explosions echoed in the distance and grew steadily closer with each loud pop. 

“Evihale...Evibarrel—wow, that’s a mouthful,” Theron struggled to say her name as he tried with all his might to recall how they met on Dromund Kaas. 

“You usually call me Evie,” 

“Evie...” He repeated softly as though the nickname was a sought after prize. Theron’s head dipped backward; he dozed off.

“Keep him busy, Jonas. I’ll do my best with the terminal,” 

Evie ducked underneath Theron’s arm and approached the short-circuiting terminal with caution. Jonas shook him to wake him up; Theron had a short lucid moment. 

“It’s an auto-destruct sequence,” Theron mumbled weakly as he struggled to stay on his feet. “You..slice...” Theron’s head tipped to the side, and his eyes fluttered closed. He let out a soft snore. Jonas pushed Theron’s head back upright. The building quaked, large hunks of metal fell around them, Evie’s fingers flew across the keys. This was it; there was no way with Theron moving as slowly as he was that they’d make it out in time. 

“Take Theron and get out of here,” Evie yelled over the din of the ever closer explosions. 

Then, just as suddenly as it started, the shaking stopped. 

“Hello? Are you there?” 

The prim voice of Lana Beniko filled the air, and the holo flashed blue as her image filled the air. 

“Lana? What happened?” Evie asked with blinking disbelief. 

“I appear to have sliced through four layers of encryption to remotely deactivate the power core,” 

Never in his entire life was Jonas Balkar, sworn enemy of the Empire, ever so happy to see a Sith. 

“Don’t know if I could have managed that even,” Theron’s speech was slow, words blended; he managed to get the general sentiment of admiration across. The end of the sentence was punctuated with a short hiccup. 

“Theron, good to know you’re alive,” Lana’s voice was grave and her concerned guilt radiated through the holo projection. As an aside, she added: “What’s wrong with him?” 

“The Revanites gave him an injection. Have Dr. Lokin prep his medical supplies,” 

“I heard everything about the Jammer all of it. We need to regroup for an attack. There’s a transportation shed not far from where you are now. I’m sending you the coordinates. Commandeer a vehicle if you can, and I’ll see to Dr. Lokin. Lana out,” 

 

They moved at a glacial pace, stopping periodically to wake Theron up at times, at others, they drug him along after his strength nearly gave out. Outside of the stronghold, they paused behind a shielding formation of rocks while Evie used her macrobinoculars to study the transportation shed. 

“I’ll see what I can find in there. Do you think you can manage?” 

Her eyes drifted to Theron, who was studying his hand and waving it in front of his face with a fit of overwhelming giggles. 

“We’ll be fine; I’ll keep him busy,” 

Evie’s footsteps disappeared into the distance. 

“Hey, Balkar,” Theron motioned for Jonas to come closer. “If I asked her to have a drink with me, do you think she’d say yes? Do you think I have a shot with her?” 

Jonas burst out laughing despite his best efforts not to; Theron looked crestfallen at the response. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that right now. We need to get your mind right first. Let’s start with something easy. Do you remember what I said to you on the first day of SIS basic?” 

“I’ll pay you fifty credits to ask Trant about his ex-wife Garza?” Theron asked with an unusual lack of confidence. 

Jonas snickered to himself. Theron arrived at basic training, green, and easy to trick. It wasn’t precisely a hazing ritual amongst the older recruits. In truth, Jonas wanted to test Theron’s mettle. Theron was smart, a little too smart for his own good, and quickly ascended the ranks in the first two weeks of basic. Fascinated and he was less than proud about this part, jealous of the attention Theron was getting, Jonas decided to put Theron up to the challenge. He quickly learned that Theron’s competitive side never backed down from a challenge. Whether it was from an overabundance of reckless confidence, or ignorance about the headlines of Coruscant’s gossip columns, Theron squared his shoulders and asked the question. Of course, Trant knew the culprit right away. They were both sent to KP as punishment, and the rest was history. 

Not all of Theron’s memories were affected by the serum, just the ones about Evie. Curious; the moment flashed so quickly that Jonas scarcely noticed Revan’s interest in Evie. What was it about this one Imperial spy that had the attention of an infamous Sith mastermind? Scratch that—the most critical question was what did Revan mean when he mentioned that tenacity was the curse of their bloodline? The questioned continued to swirl in his mind. He pushed them aside for the time being. He’d pour Theron a Whiskey, and they’d chat about it later. Right now, his friend was hovering between sleep and wakefulness, looking perplexed and, dare he say it, lovelorn. 

“What do you remember about her?” 

Theron’s head tipped back against the rock; his eyes drifted shut. Jonas reached to shake his shoulder when Theron’s hand gripped his wrist firmly to stop him. For a second, Jonas felt hopeful that the serums had released their hold on his mind and that Theron was aware of his apparent attempts to dig out information he had no business of knowing. 

“I’m not sleeping—I’m thinking,” Theron released Jonas’ wrist. “It’s all sort of fuzzy. I don’t know what’s real or what isn’t anymore. Revan took my mind and played with it.  
All I know is that every time I look at her, I feel...”

“What?” 

Theron didn’t answer. He tilted his head to listen; the sound of a swoop bike hummed and sputtered to a stop a short distance away from their hiding place. Evie’s running boots crunched up the gravel path. Jonas stood and hauled Theron up to his feet. 

“We’ve got to move. Revan sent reinforcements, and they know we’re here,” 

She ducked underneath Theron’s other arm; they slid down the inclined path and skidded to a stop next to the bike. Voices bellowed in the distance. 

“We’ll put Theron on first,” Evie suggested as she paused momentarily to judge the rapidly closing distance of the Revanite patrols. 

They managed, after two attempts to get him to sit on the seat of the bike. Evie knelt to swing his leg over to straddle the bike; Theron toppled over it and fell to the ground face-first into the dirt on the other side of the bike.

“Ow,” Theron groaned into the dirt. 

“Of course, I’m open to other suggestions,” She amended with a wince as Jonas pulled Theron back up to his feet by the back of his jacket. 

“You get on the bike first,” Jonas ordered with a hushed tone. The voices were closer. They were right over the top of the ridge. “With you driving, Theron in the mush pot and me shooting on the back of the bike, we just might make it out alive,”

Evie hopped onto the bike, Jonas gave Theron an indelicate shake by both shoulders. When that didn’t work, he tapped him on the cheek with his palm. Theron’s heavy eyelids struggled to stay open. 

“Okay pal, you’re going to hold onto Evie, and you’re not going to let go. Don’t go to sleep,” 

Theron settled himself onto the bike behind Evie. He hesitated with a look at his hands as though he was worried about what to do with them and more specifically, where to touch her. 

“Oh for goodness sake,” Evie burst out in exasperation. She took each of his arms and wrapped his them around her waist. Theron looked up at Jonas with a wide-eyed flabbergasted smile at his good fortune. Reflexively, he curled Evie more tightly against his chest; she turned a stunning shade of pink. Not for the first time today, Jonas wished he had his holocamera on him. 

Jonas positioned himself backward precariously on the bike with his blasters drawn. 

“All set, Jonas?” 

It was a strange achievement, having her call him by his first name twice in the space of twenty minutes, but in retrospect, their shared adventure, keeping Theron alive and from humiliating himself was a strange sort of bonding experience. It was nice to share the burden of keeping Theron alive with another person. Usually, the weight of the task fell solely on his shoulders. 

“I’m on. Punch it,” 

She revved the engines, and the bike lurched forward. Jonas gripped his seat with one hand to prevent himself from falling off. The air rushed around them, and they burst through the jungle tree line as the Revanites came over the top of the ravine. Blaster shots scorched the palms; one narrowly missed Evie’s shoulder. The bike swerved abruptly to the left to compensate. Jonas fired a shot from his blaster and hit the pursuing Revanite in the chest. 

“Can this thing go any faster?” Jonas asked in a panicked voice, alarmed that their pursuers were making gains. 

“It’s not designed for three people,” She made another sharp maneuver with the bike to avoid a tower of rocks. 

Theron’s chin dropped onto her shoulder. He let out a soft snore in her ear. 

“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” 

Theron snorted and lifted his head with a disoriented shake. 

“Evie?” 

“Yes, Theron?” 

He nodded to himself sufficiently reassured that it was Evie who refused to let him sleep, then settled his cheek against her back. 

“Have we lost them?” Evie called over her shoulder. 

“Almost, keep the bike steady,” 

Jonas lined up another shot to their pursuers, who were quickly gaining on them riding on swoop bikes of their own. Their bike swerved, the shot went wide, Jonas struggled to prevent himself from falling off. 

“That’s the opposite of steady,” 

“Would you like me to take us over the waterfall?” Evie shot back with a grunt as she pulled the bike hard to the left. 

“Evie?” Theron asked again quietly with his eyes shut. 

“Yes, Theron?” 

“You put a hole in my jacket on Dromund Kaas,” 

The short accusation dripped darkly with bitterness. Jonas stifled a laugh—Theron loved his jacket and almost as much as he liked to hold a grudge. The bike swerved again to the right and jerked backward. The engines squealed in protest as it climbed the steep incline of the path. 

“I should have known that’s what you would remember,” Evie muttered to herself with a grunt of exertion as the bike took another sharp turn to avoid a flurry of blaster bolts. 

Theron buried his face into her hair and started to dose.

Jonas returned fire with abandon; he aimed for the engine of one of the swoops. Kaboom! The engine blew, the bike swerved, and the occupant dove off the bike before it collided with a tree. Their other pursuers fell back, unable to catch them as the bike picked up speed at the top of the hill. They careened down the mountain; it bottomed out and scraped the path as they reached the bottom of the incline. The impact stirred Theron back to consciousness. 

“Evie?” 

“Yes, Theron?” 

Theron nodded as though their conversation revealed something profoundly interesting and shut his eyes again. 

“What else do you remember?” Evie prompted him with infinite patience in an attempt to keep him awake. 

Silence fell, the engines of the swoop bike sputtered. It might have been his imagination, but Jonas thought that the rocky terrain and jungle ferns looked familiar. Then again, the whole of Rishi all looked the same once you were outside of Raider’s Cove. 

“Everything,” Theron confessed after a beat. “The day we met, I thought you were going to kill me...” His voice trailed off. It sounded like he lapsed into dreams again. 

“I still might if you don’t stay awake, Theron,” 

Theron stirred again; the Rishii hut appeared on the horizon. Jonas loosened the grip of his fingers on his seat. 

“Scratch that—I lied,” He admitted in a rush. “Well, sort of. I did think I was going to die, but I also thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life,” 

Jonas straightened on his seat and turned in horror. 

Uh oh. He forgot about this side of sloppy Shan. When the inebriation got to be too much, and his system was about to collapse, he lost all control of his filter. He admitted anything and everything that came to mind. Jonas turned his body to watch Evie’s face. Her head tipped to the right as she regarded Theron with a perplexed smile. 

“I think you’re delirious,” 

“Not delirious—s’true,” He slurred groggily. 

She pulled the bike to a stop at the bottom of the hill; the Rishii hut loomed above them like a welcome beacon. Theron slid sideways in an attempt to get off the bike on his own and nearly landed face first in the dirt again. Jonas caught him awkwardly by the armpits. His condition was deteriorating right before their eyes. 

Evie scrambled off the bike to help and pulled Theron’s arm around her neck. She activated her comm. 

“Lokin, where are you?” 

“Nearly there, we had some trouble getting the supplies you asked for. The extortionist in the city wanted triple the usual price,” 

“I’ll repay you for all of it, plus extra. You need to hurry,” 

Their boots slid going up the dirt path. Theron’s progress slowed to a crawl. 

“Evie?” Theron groaned; he lost his footing, and he contorted his body in a way that caused him pain to compensate for the loss of footing.

“Yes, Theron?” 

The answer was always the same, infinitely patient, warm, gentle, not her usual clipped responses. Jonas admired her composure; Theron would not remember the day’s events, Evie, however, would. They breached the top of the hill; he heard a grateful sigh of relief escape from her mouth as the hut came into view. 

“I remember everything now,” He paused as another memory dawned on him. “What happened in the alley last night—all of it,” 

“What happened in the alley last night?” Jonas burst out unintentionally. Theron neglected to mention that little detail. Evie’s eyes went wide; she avoided his question with a soft ‘tut’ at his impertinence. Theron opened his mouth to tell the story; Evie hastily covered his mouth with the palm of her hand with a pointed warning look. 

“We can discuss it later,” 

He shook his head and drew a long breath. Something was happening, but he didn’t know what. Based on his experience with Sloppy Shan, Theron was either going to vomit profusely, pass out into oblivion for the next five hours, or...

“Evie?” 

“Yes, Theron?” 

There was a pause. At the bottom of the hill, the sounds of speeder roared to a stop. Theron steadied himself, put both of his hands on Evie’s shoulders, and with one eye closed, presumably to bring her into focus and prevent the world from spinning; he unleashed a whopper, the thermal detonator of all confessions. 

“I’m in love with you,” 

Oh no. Not good—there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Jonas should have recognized all the signs. Oh, the agony of it; Evie looked stunned, Theron appeared relieved, and Jonas didn’t know whether to cheer Theron on, or intervene to prevent him from making the worst mistake of his life. 

“What did you say?” 

Jonas shook his head vigorously behind Evie’s back to prevent Theron from repeating it. There was still a chance Theron could recover. After all, he could add ‘with your hair’ to amend the sentence. That was harmless enough and an obvious statement of fact, Theron was quite taken with it. 

“I’m in love with you,” 

He repeated it, this time with confidence, steady and assured, not a moment of hesitation. There was no way to undo it. Evie’s mouth formed a round ‘oh,’ but no sound escaped. Jonas slapped his palm against his forehead and covered his eyes, unable to watch. How like Theron to let the secret slip when his guarded sense of self-preservation was low. This was a classic Theron Shan move—avoid all feelings at any cost, bottle them up until they seeped out at the exact wrong moment. 

Lokin ran up the hill, burdened with flimsi covered packages, panting in a way that was concerning for a man of his age. 

“I got here as quickly as I could. How is he?” 

“Not well. He can barely walk,” Evie broke from her trance to address Lokin. 

“Here, let’s get him inside. Stars, Evie! What happened to your eye?” 

Lokin turned to examine her eye more closely. 

“It’s nothing. Theron needs your help, Doctor,” She reminded him gently as they pushed their way into the Rishii hut. 

“There you are,” Lana burst out with relief. “I was getting worried you wouldn’t...” 

Her voice trailed off as she assessed the extent of Theron’s injuries. Lana turned away abruptly, unable to speak. Jonas shot her a grim look of fury. This was a direct result of her handiwork, and she didn’t have the courage to witness the results of her betrayal. 

They settled Theron onto the ramshackle table that now doubled as a surgery. He mumbled something incoherent; his forehead burst out into a fresh sheen of sweat. 

“They gave him something-a serum to get him to talk. He mentioned something about an attempt at brainwashing,” Evie told the doctor with a heavy voice.

“You’re sure?” 

Lokin and Evie exchanged a significant dark look as she confirmed his question with a short nod. 

“I need everyone out—clear the room,” Lokin ordered sharply. 

 

Hour two of their silent vigil: no word from Lokin; the occasional muffled cry of pain resonated from inside the hut. Jonas stood with his back to the wall of the hut, his arms folded at his chest, one boot crossed over the other to better observe his companions. It was easier to observe their worry than endure feeling his own. Lana, in the shadow of a palm, was in a deep meditative trance. Though her countenance was untroubled, her hands gripped her knees until the tips of her fingers went purple. Jakarro and Deefour paced around the perimeter of the hut with the excuse of patrolling for Revanites; Jakarro hesitated with a low growl every time his patrol passed by the entrance to the hut. Evie slipped away from the group and perched herself on a tall rock that overlooked the ocean below. The posture was different than the usual no-nonsense set of her shoulders. She hugged her knees to her chest while her chin rested on top of them. Even though she was a great distance away, the aura appeared pensive. He noted she did so after a particularly gruesome sounding yelp from inside the hut. 

When the wait became too much for him, Jonas shifted his back away from the hut in search of anything to keep his mind occupied. He approached Evie with a thoughtful step. She seemed like the type to crave solitude in times of turmoil. 

“Quite a view you’ve found,” Jonas remarked in a casual way. “Mind if I join you?” 

“Suit yourself,”

She didn’t lift her chin off of her knees as she spoke, she seemed to wrap her arms around her knees more tightly, almost like she was retreating to the inside of a shell. 

Jonas searched for something reassuring to say and came up short. The physical ailments—those he did not doubt that Theron could endure. The mind control was an entirely different matter. To his surprise, it was Evie that consoled him. 

“Dr. Lokin is something of an expert in this area of brain science,” She turned her cheek to rest against her knees as she spoke. “I was in a similar state a year ago; he managed to set it to right. Now look at me-- I’m a picture of mental health,” 

There was a hint of self-deprecation in her voice. 

“What happened?” 

“A long story for another time,” 

The lap of the waves against the rocks below was soothing, the heat from the afternoon sun radiated off the granite and wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. 

“Are you blaming yourself for what happened to Theron, again? Or maybe this time, you’ve convinced yourself that you are Revan,”

The attempt at levity was rewarded with the smallest of smiles. She lifted her head off of her knees. 

“It was that obvious? I thought Imperials were notoriously difficult to read,” 

“In my book,” He bumped his shoulder with hers. “After what you did to rescue Theron, you’re not an Imp anymore. I’d say you’re alright, Red. You endured and survived the natural disaster that is Sloppy Shan. This is a huge right of passage when you’re friends with Theron—normally it comes with a medal,”

She didn’t correct the use of the nickname. Jonas hesitated, wondering if the next sentence ought to be said. Someone should address it—Theron unintentionally poured his soul out to her. It wasn’t his business to meddle, in fact, in his honest opinion, he was glad Theron got it off his chest—he was never going to say it to her while he was conscious. 

“About what Theron said earlier,” 

Evie shifted; her posture went rigid. 

“I suppose you’re referring to the bit about the hole in his jacket,” 

She looked for all the world like she wanted to jump off their perch on the rock and land on the beach below to escape this part of the conversation. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” 

“He didn’t know what he was saying. You said it yourself; he’ll draw a tidy blank and remember nothing about it tomorrow. Perhaps we ought to do the same. I don’t think there’s anything more to discuss,” 

“Aside from the fact that you’re in love with him,” 

“Pfffttt...that’s absurd. You’re imagining things,” 

She hastily dashed a stray curl behind her ear with a guilty sweep of her eyes across his face. 

“Am I, Red?” He grinned at her from ear to ear. He didn’t notice it until now, but she had a habit of tucking her hair behind her ears when she was uncomfortable or had something to hide. He forced his smiling lips into a more serious expression. “They say that in moments of intense joy, fear, relief, or sadness, we reveal a little of our true selves. You know I saw the look on your face when you saw that he was alive; you know that I know the truth. Why lie about it?” 

“Because the truth might get him killed,” The admission was almost swallowed by the roaring crash of the waves below. Jonas didn’t dare move; if he reacted, she might spook. “Theron’s association with me has already led to complications for him. He’ll survive this time, the next time he may not be so lucky,” 

“Is your silence for his protection, or yours?” 

“Both. And in truth, I’m not sure I could bear the loss should the worst happen,” Her expression drooped for a fraction of a second before she pushed it aside. “Besides, I don’t believe, in the light of day and not under the influence of serum that he’ll return the sentiment...though I hope I can count on your discretion not to reveal what I’ve said today,” 

The truth was on the tip of his tongue. For the first time in his life, his loyalty to Theron faced its most significant test. He opened his mouth, practically ready to shout Theron’s adoration of her to the tops of the palms when a roar interrupted. 

Evie turned sharply at the sound with her hand on the hilt of her vibroknife. Jakarro waved them over frantically. They exchanged an uneasy look; then both burst into a run. 

Lokin was at the door, wiping his hands clean of scarlet with a damp cloth. Evie’s feet skidded to a halt as her eyes took note of the blood first, then Lokin’s grim expression. 

“Well?” Lana prompted with breathless concern. 

“He’ll have a long recovery ahead of him — several weeks at least before he’s right as rain. Broken bones are difficult to set minus a Kolto tank. He’ll have to stay off the leg for a few weeks—no activity of any kind,” 

“Great. Theron will LOVE that,” Jonas muttered to himself sarcastically. 

There was one thing Theron Shan did not handle well—bed rest or as Theron liked to call it forced internment. 

“And his mind?” Evie inquired with intense scrutiny of Lokin’s face. 

“Salvageable. It was lucky you got him to me when you did—the implants mitigated the vast majority of the damage. A few more hours and he’d have been a vegetable. He’ll need rest, and some of the wounds were infected. He’ll need someone to look after him until the fever breaks,” 

“I’ll do it,” Jonas offered quietly. Evie shot him a grateful look. 

“We’ll take it in shifts,” Lana began with a look to Jonas and Evie’s bedraggled states. “We’ll need to be fresh if we’re going to take the fight to Revan and his army. I think we all could do with a little rest.” 

“Jonas will take the first shift; I’ll take the second, Lana, you’ll take the third,” 

 

The fire in the center of the hut roared; the heat and humidity of the sunlight hours waned into a brisk, chilly evening. Jonas sat at Theron’s bedside. As the eldest brother of six sisters, he was often called upon to nurse them back to health. It was different watching over Theron—who, with his swaggering bravado, and propensity for finding trouble, always seemed invincible to Jonas. Seeing his friend reduced to bed rest, with a feverish brow and a gray pallor was a reminder of his fragile mortality. To his right, Jakarro’s snored with abandon, much to the irritated chagrin of Deefour. To his left, Lana and Evie sat in chairs next to the fire; each had their hands wrapped around mugs of steaming Caf to fight the chill. Evie shot a worried look over her shoulder at Theron before she engaged Lana in a low, hidden conversation. Jonas pretended to study his datapad intently and acted as though he couldn’t hear them. 

“Any word from Marr?” 

“None. I have Deefour trying to find a way to break through the jamming sequence to contact the fleet. So far, we’re empty-handed. From all appearances, the jammer will have to be disabled from inside the Revanite’s heavily fortified stronghold,” 

“Leave it to me,” 

“Yes, I thought you might be the right person for the task,” 

Evie took a wry sip of her Caf. 

“At the rate, we’re going; I might be the only person left for the task,” 

Lana sobered, and she twitched at the note of reproach in Evie’s voice. 

“I ought to say thank you for supporting me when no one else would. I stand by my decision—I made the right choice,” 

“Right is a relative term,” Evie starred into the fire with a haunted look as though she saw ghosts of her past dancing in flames. “In my experience, there is no right or wrong—there are choices and the consequences of those choices. You made the choice to put the safety of the galaxy before Theron’s well being. Whether that was the right or wrong decision is entirely up to your point of view. You may think it was right; I suspect Theron may disagree,” 

Jonas fought not to pull a face. He knew Theron—he did not take betrayal lightly. 

“Yes, I suppose I ought to have consulted him about the plan before I made it,” 

“Perhaps. Worrying about what we ought to have done in the past does not change what happened. Your time may be better spent preparing yourself to endure the consequences,” 

“Yes, it sounds as though you speak from experience. Jonas mentioned earlier that you betrayed Theron on behalf of the Empire. What did he mean by that? I thought you two had never worked together before Manaan?”

There was a pregnant pause; Evie shifted in her chair, the wood creaked in the uncomfortable silence. She let the question linger unanswered. Abruptly, she gave a look at her timepiece and stood from her chair. 

“Time flies,” 

She turned and stepped over to Theron’s bedside with a hint of a suspicious smile. Jonas tried to arrange his features into innocent nonchalant boredom so that it didn’t appear as though he was listening in. From the wry half-smile curling her lips, Evie wasn’t fooled. He knew the whole story; he witnessed the aftermath of Evie’s supposed betrayal and Theron’s reaction to it. 

Initially, Jonas met Evie’s actions with a high degree of mistrust. He was under the impression that she left Theron on Corellia to steal a highly classified and dangerous piece of intel on behalf of the Empire. It wasn’t until after he reunited with Theron on Rishi that he learned all of the details of the story—the ten-year sacrifice she was willing to make on Theron’s behalf to save his life. What she lacked in showmanship she more than made up for in courage. Moreover, she had a kind heart, one that, even at his most jaded, Jonas was willing to admit if only to himself, significantly altered his low opinions about Imperials. 

 

The fire died low, and the burning embers radiated a soft, orange glow. A small chill crept into the room in conjunction with the misty fog that settled into the jungle’s vines. Jonas rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gave his timepiece a cursory glance. It was Lana’s turn to sit with Theron. His hackles rose—Evie he trusted, Lana he believed would put a knife in Theron’s back when they weren’t looking. With this weighing on his mind, he pushed back his bedroll, and pulled himself up from the floor, half expecting to see a nefarious plot. What he saw instead softened his heart. 

Evie, apparently of her own volition, chose to take the third shift as her own. She was sound asleep with her hand resting millimeters away from Theron’s, the tips of their fingers nearly touched. Were they holding hands, and her hand slipped from his, or was this a result of restless sleep? Her cheek rested against his cot; her wild hair covered the whole of her face. She didn’t stir, save for a few brief moments when a chill wracked her frame. Jonas’ eyes drifted to assess Theron’s state. 

As if motivated toward recovery by her presence, Theron’s color was better, his head no longer dripped with perspiration and he slept deeply. Jonas’ face morphed into a grin, temporarily caught up in the unspoken tooth-rotting sweetness of the moment. Suddenly, he didn’t regret not telling Evie that Theron was in love with her. It was better to let them discover it on their own. After all, they were both reasonably intelligent. He was a betting man; he wagered to himself they’d figure it out in less than a week. Walking on tiptoe, he crept over to the cot, slipped Theron’s jacket from atop the nearby pile of discarded clothing and covered Evie’s shoulders with it. Gratitude towards her coursed through his veins on Theron’s behalf. Someone else shared the burden of watching Theron’s six; Jonas was glad that it was the spy who loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s fluffy...Thanks for reading!


	20. Tender Ministrations

With a groan, he forced his eyelids to open; his pulse settled behind his eyes, and after a minute, they focused on the dried palm fronds of what looked like a structure. Where in the hell was he? How many whiskeys did he have yesterday? And more importantly, was he still fully clothed? He shifted his left hand to look at it; he was missing the sleeves of his tan Henley. Oh no, not again! His left hand patted his chest—yep, he was bare-chested, though why was his shoulder bandaged? And why did every part of his body ache like he’d been repeatedly kicked? With steadily increasing dread, he reached underneath his blankets and patted his legs—whew—at least Jonas left him wearing pants this time. When he found Jonas, he wouldn’t hold back. Before his friend could even think about speaking Theron would hit him square between the eyes with a toxicity dart—level four or higher. He shifted his right hand; the tips of his fingers registered something feather-soft to the touch. He persuaded his stiff neck to turn--vertebrae cracked and snapped. His vision swam, refocused, and settled on a heart-stopping sight. 

Evie slept with her cheek pressed against his cot, a blanket of curls covered one of her eyes as rested. The sleeves of a jacket, his jacket to be precise, tucked themselves around her shoulders like a cocoon. Why was Evie sleeping next to his bed? Kriff. How many whiskeys did he drink in front of her? What sort of humiliating things did he say or do? She’d be teasing him about it for weeks, probably. Or, was this an extension of their drink at the Blaster’s Path and the activities in the alley that followed it? Not that he minded the idea of them sleeping together—in fact, he was all in favor of it. It would be nice to have some memory or any memory of it at all. Then again, it didn’t make sense for her to be sleeping in a chair next to his bed. No, it couldn’t have happened—why was he bandaged from his shoulder to his naval? 

All at once, it came back to him in a snap. His body ached with the impact of punches; Revan’s mask pressed against his face. Distant memories echoed in his ears: ‘Tell us about the Imperial Spy,’ ‘you can’t stop our plan,’ ‘I’ll never join you,’ He winced and twitched as the memory a red hot brand scorched the skin of his neck. Theron’s chest tightened, breathing was difficult. His implants struggled to keep his heart from racing. 

‘Focus,’ ‘calm,’ ‘breathe.’ Master Zho’s instructions, his method of helping Theron to quiet his mind. When he couldn’t get his brain to empty itself, Zho’s advice to Theron was to focus on the here and now with his senses. What could he smell? Hear? Touch? He closed his eyes, forced himself to take slow steady breaths through his nose. His ears detected the dissonant squawk of distant birds; his nose got a waft of the faint mossy aroma of an earthen floor. Theron stretched out his fingers; the pads of his fingers scraped the rough fibers of the blanket, his right hand brushed against the same soft texture from earlier. 

His eyes fluttered open and rested again on the sleeping face of the woman at his side. The tension in his chest dissipated little by little. How long was he out? Was Evie there the whole time? His mind jumped to a different kind of memory. Revan was excised from his mind; all he saw was Evie. The slow drop of her blaster, fear melted away from her face to reveal the sweetest smile he’d ever seen from her lips--a prelude to the oxygen stealing hug she gave him. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when someone else besides Jonas gave two credits about whether or not he survived a mission—Evie did. Touched by her dedication, he reached out his hand and brushed the curtain of curls away from her face. There; that was better, now when she woke up, her hair wouldn’t be in her eye. He grimaced; her eye was ringed with a dark purple and blue bruise. How did that happen? He racked his brain to recall how it had gotten there, but anything after their reunion was a dark, nebulous cloud in his mind. 

Theron gave in to the impulse to trace her hair, both in an effort to chase away the lingering panic of his memories and to express a little of the wealth of gratitude that overflowed in her direction. He smoothed the wild tangles, careful not to snag his fingers in a knot. Bits of leaves and vines tucked themselves into the folds of red; he fought a smile. She was ordinarily so fastidious; it was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that they escaped her notice. He owed her—what exactly? This was the fourth or fifth time she’d saved his life in the year that they’d know each other. A simple thank you was a start, but it didn’t entirely cover it. He plucked a lingering twig from her hair—Evie stirred. 

Guiltily, he cast the twig aside, and in a moment of panic, folded his hands on his chest and pretended to be asleep. He didn’t know why he went with that of all reactions—except that he wasn’t ready. Of all the questions that lingered in his mind, the one that loomed most significant was this: why? Why was it that Evie had taken upon herself the responsibility of keeping him alive? He both desired and dreaded the answer. His ears detected the brush of fabric, a soft groan of stiff muscles. He opened his eyes; her hands tiredly rubbed her face, and she stifled a yawn. 

“Hey,” 

As opening lines go, it wasn’t terrible. Theron’s voice was hoarse, raw from the screams of the previous day. Her movements slowed at the sound of his voice; she pulled her hands away from her face. The pinched muscles in her forehead relaxed. She started to speak and hesitated, looking half overwhelmed and half too exhausted to manage a coherent thought. 

“Hey yourself,” She returned after a beat with a smile so warm that it could melt all of the ice on Hoth. “How are you feeling?” 

Her eyes drank in the sight of his injuries. He was sure, given experience, and the twisted grimace she gave, that the view was a spectacular thing to behold. 

“I’ve felt worse. Did you pick another fight in a Cantina with a Rodian while I was out?” He teased with a slight nod to the bruise around her eye. 

Her hand went self-consciously to it, and she covered it up with a faint flush of rose to her cheeks. 

“Not exactly,” 

He stretched his hand as far as it could reach and gently pulled Evie’s palm away from her eye by the wrist. He turned the hand and brought it to rest in his palm with a soft affectionate squeeze. 

“I think I owe you. You didn’t have to come and rescue me, but you did,” His voice trailed off; he struggled to find the right words. 

Not this again. Why was it so hard to talk to her? He shrugged ineloquently and ran his thumb delicately across the knuckles of her hand. 

“You would have done the same for me,” 

“Mollycoddler,” He whispered in a teasing accusatory voice. It didn’t provoke the response he was looking for. Instead, she appeared troubled as though her next question was a loaded one. 

“How much do you remember about what happened?” 

She looked uncomfortable as she asked like she was ready to jump out of her skin. 

“Bits and pieces—nothing concrete. I remember you came to rescue me and not much beyond that. Why, did I miss anything good?” 

Her smile faltered, and he sensed a hint of disappointment in her tone mixed with relief. 

“No, nothing important,” 

Footsteps scraped into the room. Lana and Jonas peered eagerly around the corner. 

“The invalid has awakened,” Jonas pronounced with an eager grin. 

His sharp eyes dropped down to the way that Evie’s hand rested in his and the smirk deepened. 

“If you can spare yourself for a moment, Evie, we’ve made a breakthrough with the Revanite signal jammer,” Lana spoke only to Evie. 

She avoided Theron’s withering gaze at all costs. Evie’s fingers slipped away from his, and in an instant, she was gone. He puzzled over the last of their interaction as Jonas stole her chair away. With a hint of a chuckle, Jonas slipped his hand into Theron’s, and he batted his eyelashes at him. Theron jerked his hand away, then instantly regretted the movement as he felt a surge of white-hot pain. 

“That looked cozy,” 

“Something’s up,” Theron said with a puzzled frown as he followed Evie’s abrupt exit with his eyes. “What happened after you rescued me?” 

Jonas’ playful smile slipped before it regained its footing. 

“You mean you don’t remember?” 

Theron shook his head outwardly, while inwardly he desperately tried to recall the events after the rescue. 

“Classic Shan,” Jonas settled into his chair for a long story. Theron steeled his ego for a punishing blow or several. “Remember how you were that one night on Coruscant?” 

“No, you kept slipping me Vodka and telling me it was water—I don’t remember anything about that night except that I had the worst hangover of my life and that I woke up naked in the Senate plaza with a Jedi covering her eyes in horror. Is that what happened yesterday?” 

“That night on Coruscant, I’d never seen you that way before. Gregarious, open—the guy that everyone wanted to be friends with—until you decided to go streaking in the plaza that is,” 

“You’re stalling—what happened yesterday with Evie?” 

Jonas’ fingers played with the frayed edges of Theron’s blanket. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Nothing terrible. You were a little worse for wear—the Revanites slipped you a serum. When it kicked in, you couldn’t remember who she was,” 

Theron let out a sigh of relief. That didn’t sound so bad—why was Evie, and Jonas, of all people, so uncomfortable about it?

“That’s it?” 

“No, you might have let a few secrets slip,” 

Jonas hedged; Theron grabbed the lapels of Jonas’ jacket and pulled him forward with his mind racing. Did he inadvertently reveal the truth about his parentage? It wasn’t exactly a closely guarded secret, but not even Jonas knew the truth about his family. That might be what it was—after all, he spent a good portion of a day being tortured by his long-lost-back-from the grave-Jedi-turned-Sith-turned Jedi-turned-madman-ancestor. Wow, what a week—it seemed like a chapter out of someone else’s life. No, scratch that, it sounded exactly like his life. He ground out his next sentence between clenched teeth. 

“What. Did. I. Say?” 

“Nothing too outlandish. You didn’t remember who Evie was, but you were quite taken with her—even drugged you do have it bad for her. You told her that you thought she was the prettiest woman you’d ever seen in your life on the day that you met,” 

Theron’s ears went red. It was true, but he didn’t want her to find out like this. 

“It’s not exactly a secret, but I could have said worse,”

“You did,” 

“You brought up something about what happened in the alley the night you went and got a drink with her. You neglected to mention that sordid little detail. I thought we were friends,” Jonas had the audacity to sound wounded. 

“We might have kissed...” Jonas looked scandalized and delighted in the same breath. He circled his hand in a way that said ‘go on, I’m all ears and listening’ to prompt Theron into revealing more details. “It’s not important—I’m not going to tell you every thing, Balkar. Some things are private,” 

“Other than that, you fawned over her for about an hour and then you passed out,” Jonas’ voice trailed off; he hesitated then fixed Theron with a regretful stare. “Except for this last bit. Keep in mind when you hear the next part that I tried to stop you,” 

“No more games—spit it out,”

“You might have accidentally let it slip that you’re in love with her. Twice,” 

Theron’s face contorted into a grimace. He was so worried about revealing Satele’s secret that he forgot to protect his own. Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. 

“Please tell me this is one of your pranks,” Theron begged in a whisper. 

Jonas shook his head with a mournful air that was almost penitent enough to be genuine if it wasn’t for the slight gloating upward twist of his lips. Of course Jonas was enjoying every moment of this—he loved to see Theron publicly humiliated—aside from Life Day, gambling, and women of a questionable virtue, embarrassing Theron was his favorite past time. Theron put a tired hand over his eyes. Great! As if his friendship with Evie wasn’t complicated enough he’d added a super weapon sized confession to it. 

“Sorry. You said it, and you can’t take it back. Personally, I don’t see why you’re upset,” Jonas began as he studied his cuticles with a practiced casual air. “You like her don’t you? It’s not like it’s some big secret. Everybody else knows,” 

“What do you mean, everybody else knows?” 

“Come on, Shan. It’s obvious—I know, Lana definitely knows, Jakarro figured it out on Manaan, even that old coot of an Imperial doctor knows. I’m not sure if the droid has stopped talking about Onderon long enough to notice,” Jonas amended with a sobered expression. “But the rest of us can see it. Why not admit to her that that’s how you feel? After all, it’s not like you needed much encouragement. No one else brought up the topic—you brought that up all on your own with the help of that twisted subconscious of yours,” 

Theron let his mind absorb the question in between the bouts of sheer panic. He never intended to tell her. This thing between them—was better in the hypothetical realm. 

“You’re spiraling again,” Jonas observed with a dry bemused voice. “If it’ll make you feel better don’t think any long term harm was done. She’s convinced that it was the effects of the serum, and I might have done a little damage control by telling her what happens when the wrong chemicals interact with your implants,” 

“How did she—what did she—you know what I’m trying to ask,” 

Jonas ran his thumb across his nose—Theron frowned. Ordinarily, that was a sure fire indication that Jonas was lying. Odd, but perhaps in this instance a fluke. 

“How did she react, you mean? You said the one thing in the galaxy she didn’t anticipate. If I had to describe the expression, I’d say it was a mix between shocked and panicked. She didn’t say much of anything afterwards,” 

There it was again; the flip of the thumb against the nose. Theron studied Jonas’ face with a narrow gaze. The nagging suspicion that something was missing from the story reappeared. Something was still off but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Jonas was trying to protect someone. Was it Theron, or was it Evie? Maybe Evie responded in turn that she didn’t return his feelings and Jonas was trying to protect him. Balkar was a decent enough friend to do something like that. Jonas put a finger to his lips abruptly and paused to listen to the activity outside of the hut. Three voices drew closer; the cool tones of Lana and Evie combined with the protesting roars of Jakarro. Theron looked around in a blind panic. Was it too late to pretend he was unconscious? Theron wished the earthen floor of the hut would open up into a large crevasse and swallow him whole right then and there. 

Jakarro entered first; he gave a little leap of joy and ran over to Theron’s bedside. With a soft growl he pushed Jonas out of the way and pulled Theron into a tight bone crunching embrace. 

“Easy pal,” Theron wheezed with tears of pain springing into his eyes. “I haven’t quite healed and you’re not exactly gentle,” 

Jakarro ran an affectionate paw over Theron’s hair to smooth it down with an adoring air, as though Theron was somehow Jakarro’s long-adored wayward pet. Theron locked eyes with Evie to plead for help. She stood with her hand covering her mouth; the depths of her eyes twinkled with silent mirth. Great, no help from that corner. Theron turned his eyes to Jonas, who looking between him and Evie with an indecisive distracted air. Theron’s eyes met Lana’s. His jaw tightened in an instant, a dark scowl lined his brows. She led him like a nerf to slaughter; didn’t have the decency to apologize to him for the broken bones, for the agony. Just when he was starting to think they were seeing eye to eye, she pulled the proverbial rug out from underneath his feet and stabbed him in the back while he fell to the floor. 

“We should leave, Jakarro, while there’s still daylight,” Evie reminded Jakarro softly when she saw that Theron had had enough. 

“Leave? Where are you going?” 

In the newest round of unceasing humiliation for the day, he was unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice that Evie wouldn’t be around. Yikes. Maybe Jonas was right. Maybe it really was that obvious. Maybe he shouldn’t be using the word ‘yikes’ in sentences any more. 

“Revan has regrouped and has started his assault on the Imperial and Republic fleets. The only way to stop his plan is to send a small strike team into the Revanite compound to disable the signal jammer. If they can disable the scanner, we can transmit the data about the identities of the Revanite sabateours,” 

Lana talked at him without talking to him; a feat she managed without meeting his eyes once. It mollified his temper ever so slightly that she did sneak one guilty look at his probably mangled face. He fought the urge to take a swipe at her, then resisted the impulse. There was more at play then his grudge match with Lana. 

“I’ll go with you,” He started to throw back the blanket over his legs; he even managed to hide the grimace of pain that threatened to cloud his face with a weak smile. 

“NO!” Three voices thundered in unison. He was faced with three equally emphatic stares. 

“I told you he wouldn’t be a model patient,” Jonas told Evie with a knowing roll of his eyes. “If we don’t keep a close eye on him, he’ll sneak off and join the mission anyway,” 

“We could use your help here,” Evie suggested with a thoughtful expression. “The signal jammer will probably require some more advanced slicing, and my skills are serviceable at best. You could slice it remotely, then make contact with the Republic fleet. They’ll be more receptive to listening to you than they would an Imperial spy,” 

Her slicing was good enough to bypass the signal jammer—she’d proven that on Manaan. She was manipulating him to get him to accept bed rest by playing to his ego like he was a stubborn child. He folded his arms across his chest—he wasn’t that injured. He shifted back the blanket again and took a long look at his left leg. It was wrapped in a make-shift splint that was surprisingly heavy. 

“I can do more than slice from here,” He insisted with a churlish expression as he grabbed his defunct leg and swung it toward the edge of the cot with his hands. “Besides, two people, even when one is a Wookiee, against all of the Revanite forces? Not the best plan—no offense Jakarro,” 

“Yes, but it’s the only one we’ve got and it’s slightly more realistic about what your body is capable at the moment,” 

‘I’ll show you what my body is capable of,’ instantly sprang to his lips as a retort; from the corner of his eye, Jonas shook his head vigorously to squelch the snark. Theron unleashed a heavy sigh instead. 

“You should take Balkar with you as back-up,” 

“Lana will be creating a distraction on the other side of the compound to help thin their numbers,” This didn’t reassure him in the way Evie intended it to. “And Jonas will be here to assist you with anything you require—a kolto injection perhaps. Though, you’re acting rather fussy, perhaps he should assist you with a blanket change and lay you down for a nap instead,” 

Jonas burst out laughing then instantly bit his lip to silence it. Theron hung his head in defeat then met her eyes with a rueful smile. 

“Haha. Very funny. What’s your point?” 

Her expression softened around the mouth to an almost playful grin. She stepped forward to soothe the verbal burn she dealt him. Jonas made a motion with his head; Jakarro and Lana stepped away with him over to the data terminal. As Jonas ushered his other two companions away, he shot Theron a knowing wink over his shoulder. 

“My point is,” She settled her hands on his shoulders and gently applied pressure to get him to lie back down on the cot. “Revan nearly killed you. Do you really want to finish the job for him?

Her palms were cool against the heat of his bare skin. In this position, with her leaning over him and pushing him back against the cot, it was difficult to resist her ministrations. She gently eased his legs back onto the cot, with a slight wince at the broken leg in sympathy. Then, she threw the blanket back over his legs and tucked them around him with skill of a practiced nurse. The urge to challenge her about the plan was gone. Why argue with her when she was leaning over his shoulder to plump the pillow behind his head? Curls slipped over her shoulder as she adjusted the shape of the pillow; it was difficult to resist temptation. His fingers reached out of their own volition; he wrapped one of the stray curls around his index finger, then shifted over on the cot to make room for her to sit. Their eyes met; lighter green to richer green. In their depths he saw hesitation, fear, and another unreadable expression that he desperately wanted to know. She lowered herself cautiously to sit at his side with an expression that said she thought this was a bad idea. 

“I’m not the only one Revan was interested in finishing,” He reminded her in a low voice. 

“Ah, I see the problem. You’re worried about Jakarro, I take it?” 

The face was innocent, the mouth was egging him on in a silent challenge to explain his thinking. She knew exactly what he was trying to say. Her hair was still tangled in his fingers. He gave the curl a small tug in playful retaliation and reluctantly released it. 

“Deefour actually,” He lowered his voice until it was almost a whisper. “In fact, you might say that he’s grown on me,” 

Her head dropped down to her chest with a bewitching half-hidden smile. 

“Is that so? Well in that case, I’ll look after him for you,” 

“I know that Deefour can take care of himself—very independent spirit for a droid without a body. But still, this is an ancient Sith Lord we’re talking about,” 

The mention of Revan piqued the interest on her face. She’d been sitting on the next question for some time. 

“And an ancestor of yours apparently. If I come back, I’d like to hear that story,” 

“When you come back, you will. Look, don’t die, okay? It’d be nice to be able to...talk about that and...other things,” 

“Evie, we’re ready,” Lana called from over her shoulder at the data terminal. 

She slid away from the cot without another word; the warmth of her presence instantly dissipated in her wake and though the room was lit with a roaring fire, he felt a sudden chill. As he replayed the last few moments in his mind, a technique that played a large part in resisting the pain of Revan’s torture, Theron started to admit that Jonas was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry that this chapter is on the shorter and fluffier side.


	21. All Roads Lead to Yavin

The walker sagged with a final screeching groan, wobbled and crumbled to the earth in a faint. The ground shook as it exploded in a storm of smoke and cascading debris. Evie and Jakarro dove to the ground as the sky rained fiery wreckage and durasteel. In the hazy atmosphere above, Imperial dreadnaughts and Republic cruisers exchanged fire while smaller fighters made loops around each other, circling for easy kills. Evie stirred beneath the charred side panel of the now-defunct walker and scrambled to pull Jakarro up to his feet. 

“Cover me while I disable the signal jammer,” 

“Oh sure, we’ll happily draw their fire for you. Why do you never question our assignments, Jakarro?” 

Deefour continued to mumble to himself; Evie was grateful that the roar of the battle overhead covered his incessant complaints. Her patience, she discovered, had limits and Deefour had pushed her to them. She might have tolerated his grousing, were it not for his constant objections during every skirmish they faced. Jakarro kept his weapon trained on the horizon, his eyes wary for attackers. The Revanites would send reinforcements, the success of their plan hinged on the operation of the signal jammer. 

Evie eyed the signal jammer and the data terminal that controlled it with a hard swallow. One wrong slip, one incorrect input, and she would be locked out of the system—not an ideal situation for a modest slicer. A Republic fighter exploded into a ball of flame overhead. Evie quickened her pace; the Imperial and Republic fleets were tearing each other to shreds. If she failed, Revan would easily pick off the survivors, then continue on his quest for galactic domination, virtually unstoppable. Time was of the essence. Not for the first time over the course of the mission, she wished that Theron was there. Not just for his slicing expertise, though if she was honest, she probably could use his guidance, but more for moral support to prevent her from permanently deactivating the obnoxious droid. Her retinas ached from rolling them every time his vocoder activated. 

Gingerly, she tapped the keys with her fingers—still active and undamaged from the battle. It hummed back to life, and the keys glowed green. That was a start. What did Theron say about the failsafe? Something about an input code to disable the failsafe system—Evie hesitated—her mind drew a blank. 

In the distance, a squad of Revanites burst through the tree line. Jakarro unleashed a furious roar and charged forward; Deefour screamed with him.

“Don’t run towards them—-AHHHHH,” 

Jakarro opened fire; the Revanites, seeing a rampaging Wookiee charging towards them, turned on their heels and ran in fear. Jakarro gave chase and with a rustle of leaves, disappeared into the jungle. Evie turned her attention back to the data terminal. The keys flashed green, taunting her as she struggled to think of the code. She forced her mind to recall the scene in question. She was surveying her equipment—not as thorough of a preparation as she preferred but adequate—Theron made a sarcastic quip about how she had put the kolto injectors in the wrong pouch—then—the command came to her in a flash—Theron’s voice resonated instructions in her head while her fingers scrambled to input the code. The signal jammer hissed; sparks flew into the air, it whined its last protest, then fell silent. The lights flickered and dimmed—the jammer was down. 

As if he was summoned by her thoughts, her comm crackled in her ear. 

“Nice, I’m in. You take care of notifying Marr. I’ve uploaded the list of traitors to the terminal—it’s not complete, but it’s a start. We’ll worry about hunting the others later,” 

“I can contact the Republic fleet with the same information. Who is their commander?” 

Theron paused and unleashed a heavy sigh. 

“Let me worry about her—them,” He coughed uncomfortably then changed the subject. “I crossed referenced the list of traitors with the data you shared from the Black Codex, and there’s something you should know. Several of the names are known aliases of members of the Star Cabal,” 

“It’ll have to wait until I come back—we need to stop the slaughter first,” 

“Right, priorities,” His voice was grave, and from the tone, she could tell there was more he wanted to say. “Watch your back out there,” 

She cut the comm channel with Theron, then opened a line to Marr’s flagship. 

“Come in! Can anyone read me?” 

Darth Marr’s likeness, dressed in monochromatic blue appeared on the terminal.

“I’m here,” He intoned in a voice that was muffled by his mask. “And you are supposed to be dead, though it appears that you are on Rishi,” 

It was both a statement and an accusation. Based on the stiffness in his shoulders and bite of his delivery, Marr recognized her. They’d met once at a meeting of the Dark Council. She’d been reprimanded early in her career for not ‘learning to mind her tongue.’ The Dark Council summoned her to publicly shame her for speaking out against the will of the Emperor. It was so long ago that she didn’t recall her exact phraseology, just the furious stares of the pureblood faces. Marr had been the one to threaten to cut her tongue out her skull with his lightsaber; Evie fought the urge to shudder. 

“Darth Marr, you have traitors on your fleet—scores of them, acting under orders from Revan,”

A long silence followed the revelation, punctuated by the repeated firing of turbo lasers. 

“Revan? He’s alive? Have the fleet power down all weapons. Do it now,” 

That Marr seemed more alarmed by Revan’s reappearance and not by the traitors on his fleet was not reassuring for Evie. 

“I’m sending you a list of the known traitor’s names. My allies and I are continuing to identify the rest as we speak,” 

Another transmission came through the terminal; a woman with regal bearing popped into view. The clipped cadence and posture of the transmission was familiar, though Evie could not put her finger on why. 

“Finally, an open line,” 

Darth Marr bowed his head in deference. 

“Grand Master Shan, it appears that we have been set upon each other by your ancestor...” 

Evie’s ears rang with a peculiar piercing tone as the title ‘Grand Master Shan,’ and word ‘ancestor’ repeatedly echoed in her brain. The rest of the conversation between Marr and the Grand Master faded away into background chatter as her embattled thoughts took the floor. No—it couldn’t be. The last name was purely a coincidence. After all, the name Colspur popped up across the Outer Rim on occasion, and none of those people shared relation to her. Evie squinted and leaned closer to the terminal for a better look at the Grand Master of the Jedi order. She’d seen her once before; they’d exchanged terse words about the recovery of an Imperial traitor aboard the Black Talon. 

“We’re taking measures to detain the traitors among us,” 

The Grand Master’s hands dropped to her hips, a gesture that Evie had seen often during the year when Theron was struggling not to express frustration—usually with her. It wasn’t until Marr asked a question, and the Grand Master tilted her head upward to consider it in the same way that Theron did that her hypothesis was confirmed. 

“Mother of Moons,” The words slipped out before she could stop herself from saying them out loud as the realization dawned on her. 

“Very well, a neutral location would be best,” The Grand Master stopped mid-sentence and fixed her with piercing stare at her unintentional interruption. Shame heated Evie’s cheeks, and she scrambled to recover. All the while, the hologram of the person Evie was certain was Theron’s mother peered back at her with the same unbridled curiosity. Rumors persisted in the galaxy that the Jedi could sense a person’s thoughts. Evie organized her face into an intentionally dull expression and emptied her mind as a precaution. 

“There’s a pirate town on Rishi, my team will send coordinates,” 

 

Evie walked through the door of the safe house with her body aching, her ribs, in particular, gave the loudest complaint. Her skin was irritated and scratched from the sharp thorns of jungle vines. Her favorite jacket was torn at the elbow. Her hair was especially voluminous from the humidity; even the tightest of braids couldn’t keep all of the curls in check. All she wanted in her future was a sonic shower and a long soak in Kolto. Her feet slapped against the wooden planks of the hall. Muffled voices echoed along the corridor. 

“Then we are agreed, a truce for the time being,” Darth Marr droned in his peculiar monotone. 

He had a unique way of speaking; she made a note to try an impression of it later. It might prove useful as a future cover. The tension in the room was palatable. Her team stood on one side of the room surrounding the table; Marr and Grand Master Shan were locked in an intense pose, each with their arms crossed sternly at their chest. Marr spoke of a truce, but the rigid posture of his upper body suggested he would draw his saber at a moment’s notice. 

“Well, isn’t this interesting. Did I miss any especially lively topics?” Evie asked with a breezy lightness she didn’t feel. 

“In fact, we were just wrapping up,”

Marr spat the sentence in her direction; he was displeased by her flippant lack of Imperial decorum. He was glowering beneath his mask; she recognized the sound of his teeth when they mashed together to suppress his volcanic rage. If they were not in the presence of the galaxy’s most revered Jedi, a Wookiee and two Republic agents, Evie had little doubt that Marr wouldn’t hesitate to use the Force to choke the life out of her. 

Six pairs of eyes bore holes into her skull; one pair did not. They were the only pair of eyes she secretly longed to see. Theron had his nose scrupulously buried into a datapad; his eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, saw her sorry state, gave her a sympathetic grimace then shook his head. His eyes drifted nervously to the woman whom Evie had, without a shadow of a doubt, determined was Theron’s mother. 

“Satele Shan, Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Your intervention alllowed us to defend ourselves against the Revanite fleet. Many thousands owe their lives to your actions,” 

Satele Shan spoke with genuine warmth and kindness. There was not a hint of mistrust in her voice, and she offered Evie her hand in thanks without a moment’s hesitation. Evie recoiled as though slapped by compassion. Was this a Jedi mind trick, or was the emotion genuine? Evie stared at Satele’s hand; her eyes drifted from the offered hand to Satele’s smiling eyes, and back to the hand. This probably wasn’t the time to mention that they had met. Wisely, Evie chose to omit their previous encounter. It was far better to have the Grand Master of the Jedi Order to think of you as a hero, rather than the person who’d sent a fierce Padawan to an untimely demise. Long-buried guilt resurfaced in her chest; with a swallow, Evie struggled to push it and the urge to lay her sins bare and beg for forgiveness away. 

“You flatter me, Grand Master. Though the victory wouldn’t have been possible without my team. The credit goes to them,” Evie shook the Grand Master’s hand firmly; the grasp lasted over-long—too long for Evie’s comfort. Satele Shan’s eyes narrowed as she studied Evie’s face with a peculiar smile before she released the hand without warning. Not a word was exchanged between them for what felt like to Evie, was the longest handshake of her existence, but Evie suspected at that moment that perhaps Satele Shan did remember their previous encounter. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Theron exhale a long sigh of relief and when her eyes darted to his face, he was staring at the datapad again with the corners of his lips mysteriously turned ever-so-slightly upward. Darth Marr hastened to interrupt the silence and push the meeting along. 

“The all encompassing rot of the order of Revan has been excised from our fleets. Now we turn to the matter of Revan himself,” 

“Yes, my agent here has discovered that Revan is on the fourth moon of Yavin where he believes the last spark of the Sith Emperor resides,” 

Evie’s eyes shot to Theron at the words ‘my agent’; his face was a study of neutrality. She might have been fooled if her sharp eyes hadn’t caught the irritated pulsing twitches of his left jaw muscle. Evie dropped her chin to her chest to smother a smile. It was a strange balm, knowing that perhaps she was not the only one between them with a difficult relationship with her mother. 

“Revan intends to return the Emperor from the brink of death so that he may finally be destroyed,” 

“I fail to see why we should impede Revan in his quest,” Evie remarked in a callous voice. “Perhaps it’s time for new leadership,” 

The Emperor had lain dormant for years; the few years of his rule that she learned about from Sith history books suggested that he was a cruel and ruthless leader. Marr bristled visibly; the leatheris skin of his gloves crinkled audibly as he curled his hand into an infuriated fist. 

“I see you still haven’t learned to bite your tongue. There’s more to it than that. The Emperor hungers. If he is restored, he would attempt to destroy all life in the galaxy and I am certain he would succeed. No one, not Revan, not the Jedi, not you, not me, would be able to stop him,” 

Sensing the tension between them, Satele hastened to intervene. 

“Darth Marr and I will be leading a joint strike force on Yavin Four to put an end to Revan’s plan. We had a spirited debate,” Her eyes darted mischievously around to the other members of the room. “And it’s been decided that you should join us as the task force commander,” 

“Me?”

In the course of a week, she’d become a pirate, stopped a ruthless gang of thugs from exploiting slave labor, become an unwilling ally with the former Minister of Intelligence, and none of those events, not Revan’s resurgence, not Theron’s unwitting and disappointingly false declaration of love could have prepared her for the shock this sentence sent through her system. The thought of it made her stomach tie in knots. In all; it’d been an extraordinary week. 

“Yes, we think that you are the most suitable choice for the position given your recent career choices and outstanding the leadership you’ve demonstrated on Rishi,” 

“Career choices?” 

“Yes, given that we are temporarily seceding hostilities between our two faction, we thought it best to have someone with neutral interests step-in to lead. Since you are no longer a member of Imperial intelligence, and have proven successfully that you’re capable of working with members of the Republic, we decided that you would have more success with creating unity,” 

“I’m flattered, truly I am,” Evie began with a faint voice. “But respectfully, I must decline your offer. I don’t know who’s been telling tales, but whatever you’ve heard has been grossly exaggerated—I’m no hero. Surely, there must be someone else more qualified for the job. Besides, given the...delicate nature of my work for Imperial intelligence, I doubt very much there will be anyone from the Republic who wouldn’t be eager to wring my neck,” 

“Lana mentioned that you were willing to sacrifice your career to save the life of an SIS agent. You took the time to liberate a slave camp here on Rishi. Once our troops are aware of your bravery and self-sacrifice, you’ll find they will be willing to follow your leadership. However, if you refuse, we’ll have to consider other candidates. Take the remainder of the day to consider our offer. I for one hope you will join us,” 

Satele swept from the room, taking the air of calm competence with her; Marr turned to follow in her wake. 

“As do I for the Empire and for the galaxy,” As he brushed past Evie, Marr grasped her bicep with his hand and leaned toward her. “We will have words later. Beniko: outside, two minutes,” 

A chill traveled down Evie’s spine. The cautionary words from the Minister echoed in her mind. Marr was displeased with her lack of loyalty to the Empire. He was considering reinstating her contract for Theron’s life; her eyes drifted to Lana’s face, which, looked a little paler than usual around the mouth. Lana had been true to her word, Marr seemed genuinely surprised that Evie was alive. The consequences for them both would be dire. 

“I thought that went surprisingly well,” Deefour pipped up enthusiastically; tense silence followed. 

“Yeah, who would have thought that the Empire and the Republic could work together without stabbing each other in the back?” Theron remarked with a sardonic curl of his lips. 

Jonas put his hand over his face tiredly, shook his head, then looked to Evie with pleading eyes to mediate the impending conflict. 

Evie chose to side-step the conversation completely by interjecting a new path of action. They were all at their best when not allowed to brood. Besides, Lana was about to face consequences with Darth Marr; she didn’t have the heart to make her day worse. 

“We ought to prepare for departure. What of this equipment is going with us to Yavin?” 

“With us?” Lana asked with a note of hopefulness in her voice. 

“Yes, it would be difficult to be a task force commander from Raider’s Cove,” She quipped with a hint of a smile. Evie put a reassuring hand on Lana’s arm and lowered her voice. 

“Why don’t you let me speak to Marr? You’re in this mess for protecting my secret after all,” 

“I’m more than capable of handling Marr myself,” Lana drew herself up in quiet indignation. “Besides, of the two of us, one of us told the Dark Council in no uncertain terms where they could ‘stuff the memory of their beloved Emperor’. Better leave Marr to me—though it might help smooth things over with him if I could announce your decision, Commander,” 

Evie hesitated; announcing the decision would make it permanent. There would be no retracting the decision once Marr knew. Was she ready to lead legions to their deaths? Her eyes surveyed the room; Jonas and Theron spoke in a hushed confab in the corner. Someone must have lobbied persuasively on her behalf if Marr agreed to make her of all people the task force commander. She had a sneaking suspicion who her secret champion was. 

“I’ll do it, but tell Marr that I have conditions we’ll discuss later,” 

“He’ll love hearing that,” Lana smirked; the smile softened in gratitude. “Thank you for accepting the position. I know the decision is not your first choice but I have every faith in you. While I’m speaking with Marr, you might want to divide the tasks amongst our troops. We’ll need fresh supplies, mostly medical in nature if Revan has anything to say about it. All of the technical equipment will need to come with us,” 

“Leave it to me. Give Marr my regards,” 

 

They were alone; Theron sat with his broken leg propped up on the table. Evie stood with her hands on her hips thoughtfully, wondering how they were going to get all of the equipment packed up within the time frame that Lana alotted when only one of them was capable of movement. Questions burned brightly in her mind. Was it too presumptuous to ask? They’d shared confidences over the year, but this, he chose to omit. Given her limited knowledge of the Jedi order, she understood his hesitation in bringing it up, but it did sting a little. After all, she’d confessed one of her ugliest secrets about her past to him. She turned to confront him; he was studying her with his arms crossed at his chest, and his head tilted to the side. 

“This better not be a mom joke,” 

How did he do that? More than once, he’d accurately predicted almost down to the inflection her exact train of thought. Did he do it through observation, or was there a frequency in his implants that picked up her thoughts?

“You need to stop doing that,” 

“Doing what? You don’t like it when I read your mind?” He grinned; pushed himself out of the chair with groan to hobble over to her to help her. “I knew the minute you saw Satele that you’d figure it out. That’s part of the reason I never brought it up,” 

“Part of the reason?” She asked as she watched him put weight on his bad leg; he flinched from the pain. “You shouldn’t be walking on it. Dr. Lokin said that you needed to stay off of it for at least a week,” 

“I thought about telling you a dozen or so times. It’s not exactly on my list of top ten favorite stories to tell. Not a lot of fond memories there, and it’s a little on the heavy side. When I’m trying to get to know someone, I don’t usually lead with that story. Tends to scare people off—I’m not going to sit here and watch while you do all the work. Give me something to do,” 

She pulled open a crate stuffed to the brim with wires, odd pieces of circuits, and other unidentifiable items. What was this? Salvage? Bits of Ceefour? She walked it over to the table and set it in front of Theron then perched herself on the table next to it and started sorting the circuits into like piles. He grinned, slid the box closer to Evie, and gingerly sat on the edge of the table. 

“What is all this rubbish?” She asked as picked up a rats nest of tangled wires with a dubious air. 

“How dare you. This rubbish is one of the greatest treasures of Raider’s Cove—my stuff,”

“One of the greatest—stars, you can’t be serious,” 

Her eyes settled on his face; the expression was soft and as unrestrained as she’d ever seen it. Theron struggled to speak for a moment, then hung his head in defeat with a rueful smile. 

“You’re judging me, aren’t you?” 

It was more of a realization than an accusation. She supposed he’d seen the way her fingers twitched when they saw an opportunity to put the crate in order. 

“Yes, of course I am—you’ve seen enough of my methods to know how I like to work,” 

He shrugged eloquently with a swaggering grin that was a little too assured of itself. 

“Yes, everything in its place, a back-up plan for your back-up plan. Me? I need a little chaos in my life. Too much order and things start to get stale. Routine, schedules, multiple plans for a mission—where’s the spark without a little danger?” He pulled a disgusted face, but the effect was so exaggerated that she realized after she fought the urge to be insulted that he was teasing. To add insult to injury, he lifted a circuit from one of her neatly sorted piles and placed it with a challenging air into the wrong pile. Evie twitched; the circuit might as well have been painted in vermillion for the way that it’s incorrect shape stuck out of the pile. He leaned forward to watch her reaction intently. No, she wasn’t going to give in. Theron was doing this to get a rise out of her. 

“What is really in this crate?” 

“Scrap and salvage. When you’re on the run, ordering parts for data terminal repairs tends to attract unwanted attention. This box doesn’t look like much but it kept us connected to the Revanites more times than not,” 

He lifted a tangled coil of wires into his lap to unknot it; they drifted into thoughtful silence. A single lock of hair drifted across his forehead as he worked on a particularly difficult knot. His clever fingers found each snag in the wire, gently tugged until it came loose with precision and a startling amount of patience. It was not the first time she’d found herself mesmerized by his hands; each digit was an extension of his mind, inquisitive, thoughtful. Evie fell into the memory of the way his fingers always seemed to wrap themselves into her hair whenever they were close enough to touch. As she recalled the events of their kiss in the alley, she was grateful he couldn’t read her mind. 

“Does it bother you?” 

He focused on the coil; the skin around his mouth pulled into a tight sardonic smile. 

“Not anymore—I love it though. She calls me her agent as if it’s sheer coincidence we have the same name. It’s not like Master Satele raised me, or like we do any mother-son stuff. Just an odd way to refer to your kid, you know?” 

“I was talking about the crate,” She amended softly; their eyes met, the tips of Theron’s ears went red. “Though if it bothers you, when we get to Yavin Four, you should say something,” 

“To the crate?” He asked as he playfully bumped his shoulder with hers. “Eh, maybe I’ll bring it up. I’m not bothered by it, so much as amused. Family stuff is complicated. Those kinds of talks never go like you expect, and if you’re not careful an ancestor from your past comes back from the dead to torture you,” 

Evie dug her hand into the crate for another handful of circuits to sort as she debated whether or not to confide her conversation with the former minister about her brother. He could have lied to her about his true heritage but chose to confide it instead. She decided to repay his trust with a little of her own. 

“While you were off on your adventure with Revan, I had a visit from the former Minister—Would you believe that...” 

Evie launched into the story about her brother, the Minister, and Shana without giving thought to how much she was revealing to him until it was too late. For a moment, the Rishi safe house faded away. They were back in Kaas City, in a dank SIS safe house that reeked of stale Caf. Evie dripped from head to foot with sleet. The mood was tense; Theron’s hand rested cautiously on his blaster while she begged for his help to rescue Kaylio. Mistrust radiated from his eyes as they both lingered on the fringes of the room in debate, neither of them sure whether or not they could lower their defenses long enough to trust each other. Then, he relented, offered her a towel, and spot on his cot. They sat across from each other as she relayed her story, with Theron leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, listening in the intent way he had with his fingers steepled together on his chin. 

She blinked, and they were back in the Rishi safe house, sitting side by side on the table with their legs swinging freely, each with a thinly veiled grin on their face, amicably discussing intel that logically ought to remain classified like they were a pair of school chums sharing Caf at a cafe. He was listening in the same way he had on Dromund Kaas with his elbows on his legs, his eyes distant as he absorbed her story. She felt a small tug in her chest—whether it was sheer dumb luck on her part or the will of the Force that brought them together on Dromund Kaas, she was grateful to be able to call him her friend. 

“First of all, how have we not talked about this yet? You’re holding out on the juicy intel, Red,” said with a small side-ways grin.

“This from the man who neglected to mention he was the son of the Grand Master of the Jedi order?” 

”That’s fair. I should have mentioned it sooner. The Twilight King...the name rings a bell, but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before. After this is over and assuming they let me set foot in SIS headquarters again, I’ll poke around in old files and see what I can dig up. You might want to talk to Jonas—he was embedded with Havoc Squad for a while. He might be able to find something about your brother through his Special Forces contacts,” 

“You’re offering to help me find Luckha’s killer, even after we stop Revan?” 

Theron blinked in confusion. 

“Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?” 

“We’re supposed to be enemies, remember?”

She reached into the crate to pull out the last of the tangled wiring at the same time that he did—the tips of their fingers brushed. Their eyes met, his fingers wrapped around hers; she dropped the wiring from her hand as he slowly collected her hand with his. 

“We made the choice on Dromund Kaas to trust each other. If we live through our next adventure, I don’t see why we have to stop trusting each other once we leave Yavin Four,” 

“I may have inadvertently kicked a Collocoid nest when I kept the Black Codex, and now the Star Cabal is retaliating. Revan almost killed you for aligning yourself with me. Losing your career would be the best-case scenario if we continue to work together,” 

A small smirk edged the corners of his lips ever-so-slightly upward. 

“Maybe, but the last time I checked, we’re both covert operatives, aren’t we?” 

“Yes...I don’t see what the has to do with—“

“Capable of covering our tracks, withholding intel, deep cover ops...” 

“You’ve lost me completely,” She searched his face for answers and found none. “Is this a side effect of the serum? Should I call Dr. Lokin to have him examine you again? You’re not about to tell me you’re in love with me again, are you?”

His breath caught in his chest and his posture went rigid. 

“I don’t remember saying that,” 

“Relax Theron, it’s a joke. I won’t hold you to it. We’ve all said things we didn’t mean under the influence of a serum. Right?” 

“Right,” His head dropped to his chest and he appeared to be gathering his thoughts to hide his embarrassment. “Where were we?” 

“You were about to unveil something spectacular earlier. What was it?”

“Now I remember,” He crooked his index finger with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes to move her closer. Intrigued, she leaned toward his shoulder. “It’s no secret that we enjoy working together,” He caught her puzzled expression, his brows flexed upward. “We do enjoy working together, right? I don’t want to presume,” 

“I find you reasonably tolerable to work with, yes,” 

“I know that’s high praise coming from you so I’ll take it,” His grin widened; he lowered his voice further with a dart of his eyes around the room to make sure no one was listening before he continued. “I’m saying that we play to our skills. The Star Cabal has been dictating the game from the beginning-so we rewrite the rules. We start now; stage a few public disagreements, establish that we’re no longer a team due to differences of ideology...” 

“And make the shadow agents of the Star Cabal embedded in the task force to think that when I leave Yavin that I’m working alone while you quietly help me investigate the ‘Twilight King’ from inside the SIS. You are brilliant!” 

She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze, then realized tardily that she’d forgotten to let go of it in the first place. For a moment, she considered withdrawing her hand from his. After all, it’d lingered longer than it should, yet, given what transpired between them in the alley, this wasn’t an unreasonable show of affection, and if she was honest, she rather enjoyed the connection. What was the harm of indulging it a little while longer? 

“We’ll have to follow certain protocols once we’re on Yavin, avoid contact in public places; things can’t be as friendly between us as they are now. Not to mention I’m technically your subordinate since you’ve been promoted to commander,” 

“Why do I get the feeling you had something to do with my promotion?”

“I might have mentioned you were the right person for the job. Of course, Lana and Jonas put in their two credits worth of input too. You might say it was a group effort,” 

His jaw muscle twitched; he was lying. Evie poked at the muscle in question with her index finger. 

“In other words, it was entirely your idea. If we’re going to fool anyone, you’re going to have to work a little harder to hide your tell. Jonas and Lana will see right through you,” Her finger traced the sharp line of his jaw and lingered on the edge of his chin. “Why are you bound and determined to help me?”

“That’s an ironic question coming from the woman who not twelve hours ago saved my life from the jaws of death,” 

“You saved yourself,” 

“True, I would have made it out on my own without your help eventually, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?” Evie rolled her eyes at him. His smile deepened until his cheeks dimpled, then all at once, it dropped. “I don’t know...maybe I’ve gotten used to this,” 

“Used to what?”

He hesitated as though cycling through several different responses, then leaned toward her with a bashful smile with a voice that was so low it almost escaped the frequency of human hearing. 

“Having a partner,” 

Genuine admiration radiated from his eyes into hers; she blinked twice in stunned silence. Her chin dropped to her chest, and she uttered a half-hearted ‘tut.’ 

“That’s a terrible line. Has it ever worked before?” 

“It’s not a line—it’s true,” 

“Our working together has had its charms, hasn’t it?”

Touched by his genuine confession, Evie gave in to impulse, leaned forward shyly to press a kiss to his cheek. Just as her lips met his cheek, he turned to respond to her question. It was too late to stop; her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. With a gasp, she hastily pulled her lips away; her startled gaze met his. 

“You could say that,”

It was difficult to say how it started, whether it was his lips that brushed hers next or vice versa—or whether it was a joint effort. A soft peck led to a series of others. His hands tenderly cupped her cheeks; the kiss deepened. The sorted box of scrap that sat in between them impeded their progress. Impulse took over; Theron took his arm, swept the box off of the table, then wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her closer with a groan. Scrap scattered around the room, coils of wires fell into a snarled heaps. Evie tore her lips briefly away from his to review the carnage in horror. 

“Oh, but we just finished sorting that,” She protested against his lips. “Now it’s all over the floor,” 

Theron gently traced his thumb against her cheek and bit his lip to prevent a bemused smile. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“No,” 

It was a lie; in truth, her mind was unable to rest while the coils of wires sat like a pit of serpents taunting her to put them to order. He pressed another feather soft kiss to her lips in an effort to get her to ignore the mess. His kisses became more persuasive, the nagging worry about the scattered revenants of their work was soon pushed to the back of her mind. 

In the distance, Jakarro gave a cantankerous roar. Lana murmured something soothing in response. Evie pulled her lips away from his with a frustrated sigh and rested her forehead against his mouth in defeat. They were doomed never to be alone for more than ten minutes at a time. Theron chuckled in response and brushed a regretful kiss that lingered against her hairline. 

“We’ll talk later,” He promised her in a low voice. “Once we get to Yavin,” 

“If we’re going to go through with this plan of yours, we’ll have to make it look convincing,” 

“I know,” 

Evie slid reluctantly out of his arms and stooped a little more eagerly than was necessary to tidy the mess of circuits on the floor. The tightness in her chest receded as she carefully replaced each coil of wire into the crate as she tried to steady her racing mind. Before his abduction, she’d made up her mind to put a stop to moments like these—now she’d agreed to a plan that, if successful, would make moments like these possible for the foreseeable future. What had gotten into her? It wasn’t logical by any stretch of the imagination yet, she didn’t want it to end. Perhaps he’d said it best: she’d grown used to having a partner.

“Fair warning: I won’t go easy on you,” She said with a challenging crook of her brow. 

“When have you ever, Red?” He quipped as he pulled his datapad in front of him and arranged himself back in the chair. “I was bleeding internally the moment we met,” 

Theron typically gave as good as he got when it came to their verbal sparring matches—she was secretly looking forward to seeing which of them would end up on top. Her mind gave a little jolt and a scorch of pink dusted her cheeks—that was a poor choice of words. She was looking forward to seeing which of them would end up besting the other. 

Lana, Jakarro, and Jonas entered the room. The amicable atmosphere faded between them; they glared at each other—the farce had begun. Jonas put up his hand to prevent Lana from interrupting as he drank in their furious expressions with a surprised drop of his jaw. 

“What happened here?” Jonas asked as he eyed the circuits, then the way that Evie and Theron refused to meet the other’s gazes. 

“Nothing important,” Evie said with a moody shrug as she went back to sorting. Theron unleashed a long frustrated sigh as he fixed Evie with an feigned angry grimace. 

“Nothing at all,” 

“That doesn’t seem like nothing,” 

Evie avoided Jonas’ lingering look as the question went unanswered. When Jonas turned away to answer one of Lana’s queries, Theron’s twinkling eyes peered over the top of his datapad to meet her gaze. Her lips pulled into a shy half-smile—he winked at her—the secret plot between the galaxy’s oddest pair of conspirators had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	22. Keep to the Code

Dawn broke over the jungle palms in shades of fuchsia and violet; Yavin’s birds lifted their voice in song to praise the glorious sight. Evie stuck to the outlying shadows off of the main path; the tingle of impending danger ran up her spine—she was being followed. The signs were subtle; an occasional shift of the foliage followed by abrupt silence, the heavy crunch of shifting gravel and sand of the roughly hewn path accompanied by the crisp snap of a branch. Her shadow, based on the impact of boots to the ground, was taller and significantly larger than she. Evie palmed her vibroknife; her index finger twitched to trigger her stealth belt. No, better to let her assailant think they had the upper hand. She slowed her pace, pretend to stoop to tie the lace of her boot; the trap was laid. A large hand shot out between the palm fronds; Evie caught the motion from the corner her eye. Her hand snagged the wrist tightly; she pulled the arm over her shoulder. In one fluid motion, the man, it was undoubtably a man from the timbre of his yelp, flew to the ground and landed prone on his back with a heavy thud.

A harsh growl tore from her throat as she pounced, perched with her knee on his chest and flicked her vibroknife to his throat with one arm, while she pinned his arms above his head with one hand. The assailant’s breathing, shallow and raspy, quickened. He was cloaked entirely in black, a mask obscured his face; at the mouth, the fabric drew in and out with every rapid breath.

“Ow,”

Evie blinked; she knew the voice.

“Oh for goodness sake,” She released his arms, pinched the cloth mask between finger and thumb and swept it away to reveal Theron Shan. “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that—I almost killed you,”

“I think you did. I might have—no scratch that, I definitely have a rock wedged between my vertebrae. Nope, not a rock just the shattered remains of my gear and my self-respect,” His face smoothed from a pain filled grimace to a lopsided grin; the kind that preceded a sardonic rebuke. “You know, there was a time when I was younger when this might have done it for me,”

Theron’s eyes roamed first to her knee on his chest, then to the knife at his throat, and last to the way his arms still rested helplessly above his head then, with a particularly impish inflection he added for effect:

“Miss me?”

Evie tucked her vibroknife back into the sheath more aggressively than was necessary in response and rebuked him with a soft half-hearted ‘tut’. She fought the renegade corners of her mouth from stretching upward into a smile.

On the two week journey to Yavin; they maintained a strict code of silence. They’d been on Yavin for two days. They hardly uttered a word to each other that wasn’t dripping with vitriol and malice. The camp required constant set-up and organization. It was Evie’s forte, but the lack of trust between the two factions had reached its boiling point. She’d dealt with diffusing much of the tensions on her own, and the constant bickering with Theron weighed heavily on her psyche—she missed their quiet conversations.

“Your message said it was urgent,”

Evie slid off of his chest and crouched on one knee beside him while her eyes surveyed whether or not she’d done any permanent damage. He wasn’t supposed to be jostled. His injuries had been more severe than he admitted on Rishi—he still wasn’t cleared for active duty. Naturally, Theron being Theron, he ignored the edict and did exactly as he pleased—he’d secretly snuck off on scouting missions. When he returned he faced the wrath of the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, and much to Evie’s surprise and Theron’s irritation—Lana Beniko.

“Has anyone ever told you, and keep in mind that this is coming from me, that you might be a little too focused on work?”

He was teasing but there was a plaintive note in his voice. Perhaps she was not the only one who found the act of keeping the person who’d inadvertently become her closest friend at arms length exhausting.

“It’s been mentioned once or twice though never in the context of stopping a power hungry Emperor from devouring all life in the galaxy,”

“You might have a point,”

Evie stood first, brushed the streaks of red clay off her white jacket; at the rate she was going, the color would never be the same. She lamented the loss; Lokin in particular would be most disappointed. Giving her the jacket for Life Day had been his idea.

She offered Theron her hand; he stood stiffly with one hand clutching his back and the heavy pack attached to it. He was too generous and perhaps too proud to admit it, but she’d definitely dealt him some lasting damage. He stood at an acute angle with the ground while he eased his spine into submission. With a guilty solicitous hand, she brushed the crushed leaves and dirt from his shoulders. His head turned to watch her progress from the corner of his eye with a curious crook of his brow.

“What?”

“I...” His voice trailed off as she reached to brush some of the dirt away from his neck. “It’s nothing. You figured out the code much faster than I thought you would,”

“You sound surprised,”

“No, not surprised—I’m trying to give you a compliment. How did you do it so fast?”

“I was a precocious child; solving puzzles was my favorite past time. My brother would write coded messages for me to solve. Usually they led me to some secluded location where he’d jump out at me and give me a fright. I think he did it to try to keep me from getting into trouble,”

“Sounds familiar,”

Theron took the lead, lifted a low lying frond, and gestured for her to go first.

“Clever use of a data cylinder, by the way. No one watching will think twice about my having it on my person,” He tapped his implant smugly to indicate that he’d given the idea of embedding his coded message to her inside of the cylinder a great deal of thought. “Though, where precisely are we going? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wrote your message to get me alone,”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” He murmured the question as though it slipped out of his subconscious then winced in regret.

He pointed to a path hidden between the trees. Once a main thorough fare, the passage of time had covered the trail with heavy moss and a shield of thick vines. Overhead, a canopy of trees blocked the light of the steadily rising sun. The temperature dropped, the air was moist against her skin, and in the distance, she heard the ceaseless chatter of rushing water.

“So this is where you went on your scouting missions,” She breathed as she took the bend in the trail at a faster clip. The trail rounded to reveal black cliffs rising as far as the eye could see. Between the two peaks, water, crystalline and clear, dropped from a three-tiered waterfall. “Good work Theron!”

“Not bad, huh? Secluded, close to camp but difficult to find unless you know where it is. Let me show you the best part,”

Boyish enthusiasm lifted his step; he bounded in front of her with a wide grin, and slid down the damp path to the edge of the pooling water at the base of the falls. Beneath the pellucid water, dark shadows of stationary rocks materialized. With a wobble, he set a cautious boot on one, then balanced precariously as he gave a small leap to the next. Evie folded her arms across her chest skeptically and she cocked her head to one side as he motioned for her to follow.

“That’s far enough, don’t you think?”

“What’s the matter, scared?”

“Smart. When you inevitably fall in, I’ll be able to enjoy a good laugh safe and dry from shore,”

“I’ve done this a dozen or so times—only fell in one time, or at least that’s all I’ll admit to. Trust me,’

He offered her his hand like it was second nature for him to do so. She stared at the hand for a long minute before she hesitantly dropped her fingers into his palm. His fingers linked themselves between hers; the gesture was foreign but not wholly unpleasant.  She took a long step over the rushing water onto the first stepping stone with his help. The stone was slick, covered with a thin layer of vibrant green moss, worn smooth with the passage of time and ebb of water. Her boot slipped; her ankle wobbled. Her grasp around his hand tightened—his smile deepened. He took two stones with a single jump. Evie followed cautiously behind, keeping her eyes glued to the treacherous swirl of the water beneath her feet. The clear water darkened with depth. A flash of sparkling white scales breached the surface of the water with a splash. Evie jumped despite herself and struggled to keep her balance. The heel of her boot slipped off the slimy stone and her leg went into the water up to the knee. Had it not been for the firm grasp of his hand, she would have tumbled head first into the water. Theron burst out into an unrestrained, hearty laugh.

“If you utter one syllable about this I won’t hesitate to push you in,” She warned him as she pulled herself back up to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster.

Each stone led them closer to the roar of the waterfall. Thick clouds of cold mist rose through the air; her face tingled in response as droplets of water kissed her cheeks. Despite her best efforts to appear dower, delight lifted her spirits. Her life used to be filled with adventures like these, chasing down mysterious paths and following them into foreboding caves. As she leaped from stone to stone, each jump marked the passage of the weight of her duties as Task Force commander. Supply lines became a distant memory, Revan’s amassing forces in the North dropped into the swirling waters below, and soon Evie was free from the chains of leadership. Theron stopped abruptly on the rock in front of her; his hand slid slowly from hers. He tilted his head back; his eyes narrowed in silent challenge to the rushing drop of the waterfall. His shoulders squared, his legs tensed for a jump and with a great leap, he disappeared behind the watery curtain.

She waited for several breathless seconds before she gave into curiosity. Evie jumped to the rock closest to the rush of the waterfall, took a deep breath, and followed him with a blind leap of faith. Mid-leap, she started to reconsider the impulse; she’d leapt with no thought to the consequence, to whether or not there was something on the other side of the watery wall that her feet could safely land on. Her arms scrambled for something to grab; the tip of her boot gained purchase on the edge of something solid. She teetered precariously on a edge—then her boot slipped. She started to fall backward back into the gaping maw of the water when a strong pair of hands seized her by the waist and pulled her to safety.

“Thanks,” Evie gasped out with a long look over her shoulder at her close call.

Her wet hair curled around her neck and right side of her face like a heavy shroud. With a sputter, she blew a few of the stray pieces away from her mouth.

“Always,”

His voice barely carried over the steady roar of the water; his finger tips lightly brushed her cheek, and with deft grace, swept the wet strands behind her ear. The knuckles of his hand grazed a soft line down the side of her neck as they slowly drifted away.

It stuck her all at once; the secluded atmosphere of the cave, the low lighting; nothing stood between them from giving in to the air of temptation between them. Evie wasn’t wholly immune to the picture he presented. Minus the jacket, the cut of the black stealth suit outlined a pair of entirely delectable broad shoulders, his damp hair glistened in the low light, and a single lock of hair stayed plastered against his forehead with a rakish sort of charm that Evie found appealing. All those manifold attractions aside, the greatest enticement was the look in his eyes, one third mischief, one third unbridled curiosity and one third a look that was indescribable except that it sent a shiver of delight down her spine.

“You were about to tell me what was so urgent that we had to meet,” Evie reminded him with a hint of a regretful smile.

One day, she’d know the meaning of that expression that she often caught from the corner of her eye when he thought she wasn’t looking. Today, there was their duty to the task force, and a conspiracy afoot.

“Right, we should probably get to it,”

He set down his heavy pack with a soft grunt; there was an air of disappointment in his posture—she felt a twinge of regret. Logic dictated that it wouldn’t be long before someone in the camp noticed that they both were missing. Lana was probably looking for her with a datapad list that was six kilometers long. Theron, however was making it exceedingly difficult for her to be logical. He stooped and dug into his pack to retrieve a long silver thermos. He unscrewed the cap and took a whiff of the steaming aroma from within. His features softened into a satisfied grin as he lifted it to his lips, then stopped abruptly. Without looking, he passed the thermos to her.

“I haven’t had much luck with locating the ‘Twilight King’s’ agents on my end. I have a few suspects on my list. Have you fared any better?”

Evie took a long languid sip of the Caf to punctuate the sentence. The steaming liquid was glorious, rich, savory—nothing like the sludge that was served in the camp. Theron’s secret recipe. One day, she’d trick him into revealing his secret source of Caf beans but for now, she was content that he trusted her enough to share. She took one last lingering gulp before she passed it back to him with a small nod of gratitude.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” He said between sips. “I was able to persuade my mother to allow me to use her access codes. She was smart enough not to ask questions. I sliced into the holonet signals for the camp and found some encoded messages that might interest you,” He stooped again and dug through his pack. With his attention dedicated to digging through his pack, Evie took the opportunity to sneak clandestine sips of his Caf. “Have the rest of it,” He called over his shoulders as he gave a small gasp of triumph and he clasped what he was looking for with an eager hand. “I sort of brought it for you anyway. I mean, this is my second round today and I’ve been trying to cut back. By the way, you left this sitting on the data terminal yesterday,”

He reached out his hand to offer her Karus’ Jan’s datapad with a look that was playfully judgmental and also amused that she hadn’t noticed it was missing.

“My hero. How ever would I manage without you?”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm but hey, I’ll take it as a compliment anyway. Consider this and the Caf a small payment toward the life debt I owe you. At this rate, in about twenty years we’ll be even,”

Evie rolled her eyes, plucked the datapad from his hands, and thoughtfully slid her back against the wall of the cave. As the light outside the cave rose, the once fuzzy details of their drop point sharpened. Etched stone carvings appeared in the opposite wall, details of a seemingly great battle appeared as if through magic. The carvings were accompanied by blaster bolt scars and the angry gashes of sharpened claws. 

“What is this place?”

“A safe haven if you didn’t want to be found. The Massasi were enslaved by the Sith to build the Temples. Some of them managed to escape, though from the looks of the rest of the cave, not for very long,”

Evie absorbed the information he provided with a thoughtful air. She flicked the screen of the datapad first and fought a smile. He’d taken the liberty of uploading his fresh intel to it. As she scanned the files, her fingers ran down the gash that marred the back cover of the datapad. With a frown, she wondered if the twin scar, the one that ran down Theron’s abdomen had properly healed or if he’d elected to ignore having it looked at. Having seen the aftermath of his meeting with the camp’s doctor, she guessed it was the latter.

“You seemed to have done the impossible,” She began with a hint of a smile as he slid down into a slump next to her. “Somehow, you managed to turn the Grand Master of the Jedi Order into a spy,”

He chuckled mirthlessly.

“Let’s just say I took your advice,” He lightly bumped her shoulder with his. “We talked. Got her to finally agree to call me Theron instead of ‘her agent’. It’s not much but it’s progress. You give good advice you know,”

“Give advice yes, follow it—that’s an entirely different story,”

“That sounds like a regret,”

“I have my share of them,”

“You could talk to her, you know?”

“To the Grand Master? No, I don’t think so,” Evie crinkled her nose. “I don’t think we have a lot of shared life experience,”

He unleashed an impatient snort, and fixed her with a penetrating stare.

“You know who I mean,”

“Oh. My mother. That’s a dead end, I’m afraid,” Evie shoulders rolled forward in dejection. “She doesn’t want to talk to me,”

“What happened?” Theron cleared his throat expectantly and shifted his weight against the cave wall to better listen to the story. “You haven’t talked about it much,”

Evie’s face froze; her jaw tightened in response to the question. A surge of sadness bubbled to the surface and sat like a weight on her chest. The sounds of the gushing waterfall drifted away as her mind traveled to the event in question.

 

_Mother and daughter sat across from each other on a pair of welded bronze stools, each with a drink in their hand. Outside the window of the Cantina, the spires of House Organa stretched up to the sky and gleamed silver in the afternoon light. Everything in the galaxy had changed—Evie admittedly had changed—Alderaan remained untouched. The snows on the distant mountain peaks remained pristine; the air was crisp with the whispers of spring after a long dreary winter. Like the planet they used to call their home, Raianna Colspur too seemed unmarred by the passage of time. She remained, Evie thought, the same elegant beauty that she remembered from childhood, albeit with a great deal more pewter sparkle to her dark hair._

_“It’s good to be home,” Her mother smiled in contentment as her index finger thoughtfully traced the rim of her Ale decanter. “Though, I ought to scold you for drinking Whiskey, Little Spy—you don’t look old enough. You’re twenty five now?”_

_“Please don’t call me that,” Evie requested softly. “And I’m twenty eight now,”_

_Evie’s tone came out flat with irritation. The use of her childhood nickname struck a prideful nerve._

_“Stars...twenty eight,” Raianna lapsed into stunned silence as the reminder of nearly twenty years of separation sat between them. “What shall I call you? Surely not Evibail?”_

_“Goodness no—anything but that. Call me Evie,”_

_“You’ve changed so much—you’re so serious now. Where’s the little girl with the wild hair that used to smile all the time and poach sweets from my kitchen when she thought I wasn’t looking,”_

_“I haven’t been that person in a very long time,” Evie took a long drag of Whiskey—Theron’s favorite. She still favored Brandy, but she understood his preference. Days like today, when emotions ran unchecked, Whiskey was like the warm comfort of a thick blanket._

_“I was surprised to see you on Ziost—I don’t know how you managed to find the credits to bribe someone to get me out of that place. Once I’m on my feet again, I’ll find a way to repay you,”_

_“I don’t think that’s necessary. Credits weren’t involved,”_

_It was Evie’s turn to trace her glass thoughtfully. She’d been vague when her mother had asked her about the specifics of the rescue. They’d traveled together for three days to reach Alderaan; Evie managed to change the subject each time. Rainna’s dark brows drew downward into a sharp ‘V’. Evie knew the look, the pending query followed by swift judgment. There was no avoiding it now._

“ _Evibail Colspur,” Raianna’s voice wound up in pitch. “What precisely have you done?”_

 

A warm calloused hand covered hers. Evie started at the touch, House Organa faded away, the walls of the cave returned.

“You disappeared. Where did you go?” Theron asked softly as he gave her hand a small squeeze.

“Alderaan, the day it happened,”

“I shouldn’t have asked,”

“There isn’t much to tell beyond what I’ve said already. We quarreled. She made it explicitly clear that I was no longer her child. There are some choices that can’t be undone. She’s always been...”

“Stubborn?” Theron suggested; albeit too quickly for Evie’s taste.

“I was going to say severe. Right is right, wrong is wrong. There isn’t much room in her philosophy for mistakes. Though some of what she said rang true,”

“Like what?”

“She observed that the choice to sign my life over to the Empire had more to do with my need to spare myself from pain. I persuaded myself for so many years, with every life I took on behalf of the Empire that I was doing it for her. Part of me wanted to believe my choice was heroic—in the end she’s right. I’ve never been able to put the greater good above my own self interest,”

“You accepted command of the Task Force. Some people might call that heroic,”

Evie shook her head and smiled bitterly.

“I accepted the position to protect myself and the people I’m responsible for. Darth Marr is not someone to be taken lightly. At best I’d call that shrewd,” His mouth pulled tight to argue the point with her; Evie put her fingers against his lips to stop him with a shy half-smile. “We don’t have much time. People will start to notice that I’m missing. What have you learned about the Twilight King’s agents?”

The fiery fight blazing in his eyes softened to an ember-like glow. Her fingers, un-governable by her mind, traced the strong outline of his lips. He unleashed a frustrated sigh against her finger tips. Evie’s hand drifted unenthusiastically away. She resettled her hands primly into her lap and folded them to prevent them from wandering anywhere else on his person.

“I have communications uploaded to Karus’ datapad. They’re encoded and I don’t have any names to go with them. There are agents embedded in both camps answering directly to this Twilight King. I did a little digging into their communications. From what I can tell their orders are to create strife between the two factions, start fights, sabotage missions and...”

A flash of fear crossed his face; his eyes studied her face as he debated on revealing the last bit of intel.

“They’re gunning for you. There’s a bounty for the person who manages to deal the final blow,”

“How much is the bounty?”

“A cool two million credits,”

Evie unleashed a long low whistle; her eyes drifted to his face. The muscle in his jaw was working over time, the lines around his mouth tightened.

“Well,” She rose stiffly from the cave floor. “I think our next objective is clear,”

“Oh? Do tell,”

“We give them the chance to earn their credits,”

Theron let out a long hiss as he stood, whether it was in response to her last sentence or to the action of standing, she couldn’t say.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” His jaw muscle worked overtime, clenching and bobbing until she heard a small click when he opened his mouth to speak again. “We could go to Marr and Satele, tell them our suspicions,”

“With what evidence? We don’t have any names to give them. Besides, our overall goal should be to trace these conspirators back to the Twilight King,” Evie fixed him with a challenging lift of her brow. “You’re mollycoddling me again. Why?”

He dropped his chin to his chest, the tips of his ears went red, rendered speechless by the accusation.

“I told you on Rishi, I’ve gotten used to the idea of having a partner,” He bashfully met her eyes; her heart gave a twinge in her chest in response. “And I’m...” He swallowed hard and struggled to speak as his eyes dropped to the cave floor, almost as though he loathed himself for what he was about to admit. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m...”

He looked vaguely panicked, almost green with nausea. She rested her hand on his forearm in concern. Was the Caf poisoned?

“Are you alright?” She put a cool hand to his forehead; it was clammy with sweat. “You look positively ill,”

“I’m fine,” He returned with a slight hint of irritation as drew up his posture to his full height to summon the will to say whatever he was trying to say next. “Evie, what I’m trying to say is that I’m...” His voice trailed off again as her hand drifted from his forehead to his cheek. Slowly he lifted his hand to cover hers with such a serious expression that she froze in its wake. “Evie, I’m...I’d hate to have to find a new partner is all,”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. It was an odd build up to something that shouldn’t have troubled him to say at all but given his current demeanor Evie thought it better not to question it.

“With any luck, you won’t have to. We should head back to camp. We’ll work on identifying the Twilight King’s Imperial assets first,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for being patient and as always, thanks for reading. Sorry for the huge gap between updates!


	23. Heavy Lies the Head That Wears the Crown

They reached the edge of the Coalition camp right as the occupants were beginning to stir. Evie felt a small tug on her hand.

“Wait a second,” Theron said with a quick search of the road with his eyes. He pulled her over behind the cover of large overhanging palm fronds. “We shouldn’t be seen entering the camp at the same time. It’s too risky; I’ll take the long way around,” 

“I assumed you would,” 

Evie frowned as she studied his face—something was peculiar about the way he was acting, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It started in the cave and lingered here as he held onto her hand a trifle longer than what was appropriate; she didn’t seem to mind. 

“What if we both slipped away again tonight? We could compare notes on our findings,” 

“It’s risky—they’ll start to notice if we’re both always missing at the same time,” 

His voice dropped to a devastating octave as he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the tips of her fingers while he spoke. 

“What if we took that risk anyway?” 

“And if neither of us find any new intel, what then? Will it still be worth the risk?” 

“I can think of a few ways that I can make it worth your while,” 

He smiled mysteriously and lobbed a challenging look to her that said she could draw her own conclusions. A slow flush crept from her neck up to her scalp as her mind delved back in time to their heated kiss in the alley on Rishi. Evie’s head nodded despite her logical brain’s insistence that it shouldn’t. 

“Color me intrigued,” 

“Kriff, here comes Lana. I’ll see you tonight,” He shot her a little wink, then dove further into the verge. 

Evie watched his hasty retreat with the same flush on her cheeks. With the sun resting higher in the sky, she started to wonder why it was their curse that they always ended up on humid, jungle planets. The collar of her armor wrenched into her neck, she stuck her finger into the crevice at the collar bone to pull it looser, then, concluded that it wasn’t the weather that was making her hot around the collar.

“Where in the blazes have you been?” Lana demanded as she marched up to Evie with fire in her eyes and lips so pursed Evie worried they might permanently remain puckered. “I’ve been trying to reach you for twenty minutes,” 

“Scouting mission—must have been out of range,” 

Lana’s eyes narrowed perceptively as she took in Evie’s flushed features, damp hair, permanently stained jacket, and distracted demeanor. Lana hesitated, almost as if she knew instantly where, and with whom, Evie had been scouting. 

“Your speech is in five minutes,” 

“My speech?” 

She never agreed to a speech unless...her mind ground to a halt. There was one conversation, toward the end of the previous evening, where Lana had mentioned her troop rallying duties. She agreed to it without asking for specifics. Oh bravo, Evie! Well done indeed; now she was in a fine mess. Give her a battle with a Sith Lord, or terrifying creatures of every variety, size, and color, some with bone-shattering sharpness of teeth—anything but this! 

“Shouldn’t Darth Marr or Grand Master Shan be giving the speeches?” 

“They both agreed it was better for the Coalition Commander to be the inspirational face,” 

Evie swallowed hard; her extremities trembled with dread. 

 

“Lana,” She managed weakly. “I’m not very good at making speeches. Perhaps it would be better to postpone, or better yet, why don’t you give the speech?”

“Nonsense,” Lana smirked at Evie’s discomfort, thinking it another example of Evie’s dry Imperial sense of humor. “We both know that there’s nothing you can’t do when you put your mind to it...”

 

“I’m a Cipher Agent, not a Moff. Politics, speeches, shaking hands—I’ve no experience,”

 

Evie’s horrified eyes drifted over to the crowd of Republic and Imperial soldiers gathering near the stone stairs of the ruined ancient temple. She estimated their number at two hundred strong; she swallowed a wave of nausea. Lana pulled her off the path next to a nearby tent.

 

“I’m supposed to keep this hush-hush until after Revan has been dealt with but I trust you’ll be discrete. Darth Marr has made me the Minister of Sith Intelligence,”

 

Evie took a step back at the news. Lana played her emotions close to the chest; it was difficult to see whether this was a welcomed promotion.

 

“Congratulations are in order...”

“You can stuff all that. You and I both know why he’s done it—I’m being punished for my disloyalty to the Dark Council. I’m not a Minister and I certainly don’t care for titles, in the same way that you may not possess the skills to be a task-force commander. But, we are both of us one thing at our core,”

 

“Imperials,” Lana and Evie said in resigned unison.

 

“And as Imperials, we put on a brave face, pick ourselves up, and soldier on because we bloody-well have to. You don’t have to make it a particularly long speech. Your goal should be to stress the importance of unity,”

“Victory at any cost,” Evie rejoined quietly. “I’ll do my level best,”

 

Lana’s speech was meant to reassure her—it didn’t. Though she didn’t say it outright, Evie sensed from the way that Lana’s eyes kept drifting in the direction of Darth Marr’s looming presence at the top of the temple stairs, that there was more about the promotion that Lana wasn’t sharing.

 

“For the Empire,” Lana rejoined, looking as though she shared a little of Evie’s anxiety.

 

‘For Lana’, Evie amended mentally, realizing that she’d added another name to the growing list of people that she meant to protect. Evie unleashed a long, slow, hissing breath through her teeth, straightened her filthy jacket, and took her first steps as Coalition Commander.

 

The crowd parted as if by magic to allow her passage. They stood, divided by faction, Imperials to her left, Republic troops to her right. Her ears registered whispers, some of them encouraging, others skeptical.

 

“That’s the Coalition Commander? I thought she’d be taller,” One voice murmured at her back—from the sarcastic tone of the judgment, definitely an Imperial.

 

“Did she forget she was giving a speech today, or are the rumors true about all Imperials being unwashed?”

 

“Stars—look at that hair. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Evie ignored the comments with as much dignity as she could muster. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar face, any familiar face. Vector, Kaliyo, and Lokin lingered in the back of the Imperial block. Kaliyo waggled her fingers at Evie with a taunting, wicked gleam. Vector regarded her with an air of worry. He invited her once to assist him with negotiations at a Diplomatic summit-- talks which required her to make a single speech. It hadn’t gone well; Vector did the vast majority of the speaking after that debacle. He wore a grim expression but quickly fashioned it into an encouraging smile. Not exactly a winning endorsement.

 

“She looks nervous,”

 

The voice belonged to Jonas Balkar, who stood quietly at Theron’s side. She met Jonas’ eyes briefly. He quietly mouthed: ‘go get ‘em, Red,’ then added an overly flirtatious wink. She fought the urge to openly scoff at him and unleashed a soft ‘tut’ in response. Evie’s eyes sought Theron’s. His face was passive; his eyes remained glued to his datapad. He carefully ignored her approach with cold, detached disinterest. In this arena, it was clear that they were no longer allies.

Her feet, separated from her brain, led her to the top of the uneven stone steps like it was a gallows. She trembled from head to foot, kept her hands clasped in front of her to shield her nerves from view. The crowd fell into a hushed silence, eagerly awaiting the sound of her voice. Her throat was tight; she struggled to make any sound at all. Evie took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and let out a squeak that she quickly covered with a cough. For the first time since her arrival, Theron lifted his face curiously from the datapad screen. Slowly, under cover of the datapad, he gave an encouraging pump of his fist in solidarity.

 

“Soldiers of the Empire and the Republic,” She began with a quivering voice; she cleared her throat. It felt like she’d swallowed a glass filled with sharp pebbles. “I stand before you as....uhhh...” Her voice trailed off; her mind went inexplicably blank. As what? The sounds of the murmuring crowd echoed in her ears. Evie’s eyes swept across the group in search of Lana, who was standing off to the side with her face tucked into her palm in horror. Next to her, Darth Marr stood, radiating malevolent irritation. “The Coalition Commander,”

 

There, at the very least, it resembled a sentence. She drew in a shallow breath; her armor felt excruciatingly tight around her neck. Her eyes sought Theron’s again, uncertain of what to say next. Theron kept his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with disbelief at spectacular implosion he was witnessing. Jonas made a circular motion with his hand to encourage her to keep going.

 

“To stress to you...” Her voice trailed off again as her breath hitched in her chest. Vaguely, it occurred to her that she might pass out.“The importance of unity between our two factions. We are none of us thrilled with this alliance but never the less we must stand together as one if we are to defeat the threat of Revan,”

A vibroknife had once gone clean through her hand; she didn’t flinch, stayed on her feet until the mission was done, refused painkillers. Somehow, that seemed like a more agreeable scenario than the one she was currently in.

 

Her mention of Revan’s defeat earned her muted applause from the two factions. She had nothing left to say, so she added with a clumsy lift of her fist to the sky: “let’s crack on,”

 

There was a beat of silence, a wave of whispers, a smattering of applause, and one Imperial heckler who yelled: “Short and sweet, love. I like it,”

The crowd slowly dispersed, looking confused, deflated, and a little disappointed. Evie struggled to keep herself from running down the stairs with her hands covering her face. Lana was at her side in an instant with a calm, unreadable expression.

 

“Well, Commander, you tried to warn me,” Lana’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mirth behind the heavy layers of judgment and worry. Evie fought the urge to release a mortified groan. “But we all have to start somewhere. Next time, I’ll write out your talking points. And now if you’ll excuse me, I think I owe Darth Marr an explanation,”

 

Lana excused herself to intercept Darth Marr. Evie paused to watch the conversation from afar. Marr was gesticulating wildly in Evie’s direction; Lana looked severely chastised. Evie backed slowly away.

 

“Oy, Commander Colspur,” Evie heard a voice call to her distantly. Evie stopped dead in her tracks; she knew the voice, the gruffness of it, the coarse approximation of the proper Imperial pronunciation. She’d not heard it since her days at the Kaas City University, but the sound of it haunted her. Evie turned on her heel to face the dark hair, and eyes of a woman she hoped never to lay eyes upon again.

“Avamar Merrhank,”

With this single name, Evie’s day went from bad to worse.

 

_In the blink of an eye, she was back on Dromund Kaas, a decade’s worth of guilt subtracted from her shoulders. Fresh-faced,with energy to spare, and younger, Evie burned with a desire to keep her head down, work hard, and put another year of service under her belt without calling attention to herself._

_The comments had started mid-way through combat training, the snide looks, the giggling whispers, all of them directed at her. Evie escaped the training arena quickly, desperate to avoid the malicious stares and comments of her classmates. She pulled the collar of her coat up higher around her neck. Evie passed a gaggle of students; a sharp shoulder bore painfully into hers. The impact spun her around._

_“Hey—watch it Pub,”_

_One of the four students called over their shoulders as they kept walking with a peel of raucous laughter. Evie’s feet stopped short; the statue of the Immortal Emperor loomed over her ominously like a dark cloud. They called her ‘Pub,’ the slang they all used for anyone belonging to the ‘Republic.’ Her heart sank to her feet. They knew—despite her silence, her careful dodging of their questions, despite never having breathed a single word about her mother currently rotting in prison on Ziost, they all knew. How?_

_A single hypothesis formed. There was one person in all of the Empire that she’d entrusted with her secret. It’d happened quite by accident, after a night of heavy drinking, she’d accidentally let it slip. Evie picked up speed and headed in the direction of her dormitory._

_She arrived breathless at her door, a flimsi poster clutched in her hand, a scribbled likeness of Evie’s frizzy, tangled mess of curls clutched between her fingers. Over her caricature, a single word was written in red: traitor. The door slid open; the perpetrator of the posters sat calmly on their shared ramshackle sofa, quietly studying her datapad.  
_

_“Why did you do this?”  
_

_“Do what?” Hank asked, setting her datapad on the cushion beside her and blinking up at Evie with a frown. “What are you going on about, Colspur?”  
_

_“This,”  
_

_Evie lifted the fisted, crumpled flimsi, and threw it peevishly toward Hank’s face. The flimsi struck her in the cheek and fell to the ground unopened. Her once trusted friend shifted uncomfortably, her long fingers traced the raw edges of her brand she’d foolishly gotten the previous week.  
_

_“I thought that everyone in the Officer’s program was entitled to know who they were working with,”  
_

_“You had no right,”  
_

_“Your family was responsible for a massacre. How many loyal soldiers of the Empire died as a result of the slave rebellion they caused?”  
_

_“I trusted you,”  
_

_Hank rose from her position on the couch, stooped to retrieve the fallen flimsi. She threw it back in Evie’s direction. Evie caught it one-handed.  
_

_“Trust is a lie,”_

 

The sterile walls of the dormitory faded into the subtle shades of olive and emerald from the nearby trees. Evie blinked, face to face with her nemesis. Ten years had not been kind to either of them. A diagonal scar ran in a jagged line from Hank’s eyebrow to the corner of her lip, the kind caused by the slash of a vibroknife. Evie wondered if she’d changed as drastically in Hank’s eyes.

 

“It’s Lieutenant Merrhank now, actually,”

 

The faint edge of competition made Hank’s voice brittle with envy. Evie’s eyes narrowed, she crossed her arms at her chest and studied her former ally. They had no reason to converse with each other socially; this was a move to test Evie’s resilience as commander. The anger, she thought long buried surged to the surface. In a single move, those flimsi posters, declaring her a traitor to the Empire, had destroyed her life. She was content to work as a flakey for the Empire, sit at a desk, work the comms, maybe compile intelligence briefs. Instead, the posters had called attention to her, singled her out as a prime candidate for the Cipher program.

 

“Bravo, I see you’ve made a name for yourself. Looks like you’ve got everything you ever wanted,”

Evie’s congenital words did not match the frigid tone. Hank’s mouth turned upward into a smile that did not meet her eyes.

“And I see that the Cipher program has fed your ambition. Though, the way I hear it, you’ve tucked tail and have gone back to your Republic roots. Did Darth Marr know about your family’s little secret when he decided you were the best choice for Coalition commander?”

There it was, the less-than-subtle invisible poisoned dagger that Hank plunged into Evie’s chest. This was the Hank she’d become acquainted with all too late; conniving, sniveling, an Imperial bootlicker willing to sacrifice anything and everything to achieve the rank within the Empire she felt she was owed by nature of her aristocratic birth.

“We’re here to stop the Emperor from destroying all life in the galaxy, we all ought to be focused on working together,”

A diplomatic response; more than what Hank deserved. Evie felt the curious stares of several pairs of eyes on her back. She used her peripherals; two soldiers stood by a nearby tent, having a quiet discussion. Nothing unusual about that, save for the way that their conversation stopped every time Evie and Hank began to speak, almost as though they were listening. Evie locked away descriptions of their appearance for later.

There was another set of eyes; this pair felt friendlier. She turned her head slightly to the left to see Jonas and Theron deep in conversation as they walked in the direction of the Republic encampment. Even though Theron’s attention was set on Jonas, she could see from his posture, he was closely monitoring the acrimonious dissolution of the conversation and was prepared to act. He caught her eye; Evie gave a small shake of her head. No less than two watchers were surveilling them—she surmised there were more. If he intervened now, their cover would be blown.

“The way I see it if the Emperor wants to eat every last Republic Kath Hound in the galaxy, who am I to stand in his way?”

“Are you so naive that you think you won’t be included in the Emperor’s wrath? He will devour every last living being in the galaxy to maintain his power. You’re a fool if you believe otherwise,”

Hank took a menacing step forward. Evie slowly lifted her hand to the hilt of her vibroknife as a precaution. Hank was clever; she knew better than to attack her here openly. Or did she? 

“And you’re a fool for believing that you can stop him. Pip pip, Colspur. If you’re going to stop the Emperor, I think you’d better...how did you so charmingly put it? Oh yes that’s right: ‘crack on,’”

Hank turned with a self-satisfied smirk and motioned for the two men nearest the tents to follow in her wake. Evie stood with a frown on her face for several seconds watching Hank’s retreat, wondering if it was her natural mistrust of the woman that suddenly placed her at the top of her list of suspected Twilight King’s associates. No, Hank’s two companions were keeping a careful watch on her. As she searched her mind, they were in close proximity to her conversation with Lana. Highly suspect, but at the very least, despite the tribulations of the day, she now had a lead. The news couldn’t wait for tonight’s rendezvous with Theron. She needed him to dig into Hank’s past as soon as possible.

Evie took two sharp right turns before she stumbled into the Republic side of the Coalition camp. It was risky, going to Theron in broad daylight. As she walked, she started to reconsider her objective. Perhaps it was better to send him the message via the data cylinder, pass it to him unseen, then wait to meet as they previously planned. No, she had to know.

Evie took a sharp left—then she heard it, the crunch of earth beneath boots—someone was following. It wasn’t Theron this time; the steps didn’t match the slight awkward outward turn of his right boot, the product, she suspected, of his injuries sustained from Revan’s interrogation. She took another sharp right; the footsteps followed. Evie pulled her vibroknife from its sheath; the steps disappeared. A cold splinter of fear shot down her spine. The Republic camp was quiet, too quiet. There was no hustle of movement, no flurry of voices, just the distant shriek of birds. Against her better judgment, she activated her comm.

“Theron, it’s Ev—Commander Colspur...”

It happened with a flourish of shadow, a rustle of fabric. A thin sliver of wire dug into the delicate flesh of her throat. Evie gurgled out a strangled cry as the air rushed from her lungs. Her body jerked backward as her assailant tugged her closer to their body; the wire squeezed tighter still. A heavy pair of boots kicked her legs out from under her. Evie’s knees buckles; her vision swam in a sea of stars. Echos of voices from her past reverberated in her ears as her breathing slowed to its last few sputtering gasps.

“Are you well?” She heard Vector ask distantly. Next, she heard Kaliyo’s voice; the message was indistinguishable. Evie's shoulders heaved; sleep, that was what she wanted, to sink into the beckoning darkness.

“There is no escape; we will consume every living being in the universe until we rule it all, or until none are left.”

This was Hunter’s final message, and that ominous warning was about to be the last thing she heard. No! She couldn’t give in yet; too much was at stake. This would not be her final resting place.

“Fight! Get on your feet, Agent,” With a commanding boom, Watcher X’s voice took residence in her mind for the first time in years. “Use your intellect,”

The urgency in his tone pushed Evie to fight. She wrenched her neck muscles to turn with all her might; the wire wedged itself deeper. Her attacker wore gloves, but the edge of the sleeve did not disguise the pink edges of a still healing brand. Evie recognized the symbol; in a snap, her mind flew back to the night of her confrontation with Hank. The markings were the same! Instinct took over; Evie sank her teeth into the exposed wrist and bit down as hard as she could. The wire loosened around her neck; oxygen started to seep back into her lungs.

With a sharp heave, she lunged forward and threw her attacker over her shoulder. They landed flat on their back, then quickly somersaulted back to their feet. Evie gasped for air, struggled on her hands and knees to crawl away. From her bracers, she fired her sleep dart; the shot went wide. The dark clouds around her vision parted, she summoned her mind to think logically. A hand snaked around her boot; Evie slid into the dirt face first. Centimeter by centimeter, the hand edged her back. She lifted her other foot and kicked with all her might. The kick landed with a thud of contact to bone. The grip loosened slightly. Evie surged forward, and with a stroke of inspiration, her hand latched onto the durasteel spike anchoring the tent. With her remaining strength, she pulled; the stake was firmly lodged in dirt. Her body started to slide back again, she clung to the stake with the tips of her fingers, until, with the aid of the assassin, it came free with a hailstorm of dry dirt as she was pulled around the edge of the tent. 

Evie spun onto her back in time to repel a second lunge from the masked attacker. With a strangled, whistling cry, she took the stake and drove it with all her strength into the assassin’s shoulder. There was a howl of furious pain, and a third attack that came with it as her opponent sought vengeance. This time Evie was ready; she rolled to her side, gripped a second stake, and shoved it into tender thigh muscle. Her opponent let out a high-pitched scream of anguish that echoed. The birds ceased their endless shrieks; Evie detected the heavy thud of boots, one that struck the ground straight, the other that shifted to the right.

Her attacker rolled away from her, withdrew the spike from their thigh, and with a hobbled step, drug themselves away to disappear into jungle wilds. Evie fell back into the dirt with her fingers clutching her throat. To her right, there was a cascade of wind, a sigh of fabric, and with a whoosh, the tent collapsed in a heap on top of her. The sweeping jungle breeze took the edge of the tent fabric and covered her up like a burial shroud. It was difficult to say whether the canvas or Evie was in worse shape after the fight.

“Brilliant,” Evie muttered sardonically to the canvas as with each breath, the fabric threatened to get sucked down into her esophagus. The sun had barely touched noon, and she struggled to think of a way that her day could get any worse.

Theron’s shadow skidded around the corner. Evie fought her weighted limbs to pull the canvas away from her face.

“Evie?” Anxiety edged through his breathless tone. “Evie, where are you?”

“Here,”

The canvas fluttered away; Theron knelt beside her, perspiration dripping from his forehead, a fierce expression of concentration on his brow, blaster drawn in one hand.

“I heard everything over the comm,” He struggled to catch his breath. “When it went dead, I thought...Are you hurt?” 

“Did more damage than I took,” Her voice strained to speak, still constricted from the wire. Evie sat up slowly, her vision swimming with the pounding pressure of a blistering headache.

Theron’s curious fingers found the compression line of the wire and softly traced the fresh bruising with a dubious sigh. His thumb traced a tender line down her cheek. There it was again, that mysterious glint in his eyes. Evie shot him a questioning look; his mouth struggled to form words. He turned abruptly and cast a sharp look over his shoulder.

“Let me get some Kolto on that,” His eyes shot worriedly back to her neck as he offered her his hand to pull her up to her feet.

Evie favored him with a serene expression as her mind slowly absorbed his reaction to her latest misadventure. She took note of the distress in his eyes as they kept drifting to her neck, the disheveled state of his hair, as though he’d raked his hands through it and pulled in two different directions in a moment of anxiety.

“It’s better if I manage the Kolto on my own,”

“It’s better if you—how is it better?” He burst out in a heated, exasperated voice that surprised them both. “I’ve seen wounds like that before—two more minutes under that kind of pressure, and you would have been dead. Why are you smiling at me like that?“

“Theron, if you’re going to be my partner, you’re going to have to be comfortable with the idea that there will be some risk involved. I’ve survived nine assassination attempts before we met, and I’m fairly certain that I will survive more,”

“Oh, great. Now I feel much better,” Theron shot back with a sarcastic quirk of his lips. “Why won’t you let me help you with the Kolto?”

“Because I have something else in mind that you can help me with. I need you to run a name for me, an old acquaintance of mine—Avamar Merrhank,”

“I’ll see what I can find. I think we should bring Darth Marr and my moth—Grand Master Shan into this,”

“If The Twilight King is this eager to see me dead, it must mean that we’re close to discovering something important. If we tip off Marr and the Grand Master, we run the risk of driving them further underground...Someone’s coming,”

There was a flurry of activity on the road, the bellowing of voices and cries of alarm at the state of the destroyed campsite. Theron took a step away from her, crossed his arms at his chest, and rounded on her with a withering expression. Evie took a step back in alarm at the sharp contrast in appearance. Her friend disappeared, replaced by a man who looked at her with every ounce of loathing he could muster. 

“And another thing,” Theron began without preamble as Jonas cautiously approached.In the distance, Marr and Satele Shan followed. His voice grew in volume as a crowd started to gather. “I can’t remember a time when I’ve worked with a superior officer so ill-suited for command,”

“What’s going on, Shan?” Jonas asked with a baffled look between them.

“The Commander thought it would be funny to play a prank on the Grand Master of the Jedi Order,”

“That’s right,” Evie’s response came out swift and defiant. It might have been the events of the day or the way that her neck twinged and ached, but Theron’s abrasive shift in demeanor grated on her nerves. “In the Imperial camps, we often played pranks as a welcoming gift to our superior officers. Frankly, I don’t see what the fuss is about. If it’d happened to me, I wouldn’t get my blaster in a knot about it,” 

“Jonas, would you like to explain to our illustrious Commander why this was a terrible idea?”

“Okay, easy, Shan. I don’t think she meant any harm in it. Like she said, it was meant to be a harmless prank. No one was hurt...” Jonas put a hand on Theron’s shoulder to calm him down, Theron shook it away.

“Fine, no one else wants to say it, then I will. How do we know that it was meant to be harmless? Imperial leadership has baited the Republic time and again into a truce then stabbed us in the back when we weren’t looking. How do we know this wasn’t an assassination attempt?”

“Why would I attempt to assassinate the Grand Master of the Jedi order in the middle of broad daylight in front of the whole of the Republic Batallion?”

“I don’t know how the mind of an Imperial works. Cipher Nine is notorious for her Republic body count. Maybe you wanted to add another name to your list, let your name circle around the galaxy as the murderer of the Grand Master of the Jedi order,”

There were a few whistles and jeers from the surrounding officers. Marr and Satele watched without comment.

“I’m no murderer,” Evie insisted with a hard swallow.

Her throat was inexplicably tight, a by-product, she surmised of the recent attack.

“Tell that to the families of the Republic troops you slaughtered. Tell that to the mother of Ardun Kothe,” The air slipped out of Evie’s lungs at the name. Theron continued mercilessly. “Or did you think that your swooping in to play hero as the Coalition commander would absolve you of your crimes? You signed up to be the Commander to help you sleep at night. Have you ever been able to put the greater good above your self-interest?”

Evie’s head recoiled like Theron had slapped her. She’d confessed to Theron once, in a moment of weakness, about her brainwashing, the numerous lives she’d taken while under the influence of Castilian Restraints. Ardun’s death was not of her making, but she had not done everything in her power to prevent it. Rage flooded her body; her hands circled into fists, she stepped forward to confront Theron. Jonas jumped in between them.

“She’s had enough, Shan. Let it go. Let’s go take a walk,” Jonas pulled Theron away by the collar. Darth Marr and Satele Shan approached in the wake of his departure. Evie struggled to regain control of her emotions. Steady on, Evie. It was all for show, to drive home the appearance of the rift between them for the benefit of any of the Twilight King’s assassins...wasn’t it? Discomfort lingered in her mind; he’d jumped to those specific charges against her rather quickly.

“Commander Colspur, I demand an explanation. Minister Beniko vouched for your sound judgment, but all I see is the actions of the reckless woman who defied the Dark Council. Do I need to remove you from your post, or do I need to reprimand Minister Beniko for her gross exaggerations about your character?”

Evie had witnessed Marr reprimanding a colleague from the Watcher program once. She shuddered to think about what that entailed for Lana. Evie shook her head vigorously.

“No, sir, my actions were my own. There’s no need to punish the Minister. Punish me instead,” 

Marr’s shoulders lifted to his ears, and his fingers twitched as though he was eager to Force Choke Evie into submission. Satele’s hand on his forearm stayed his temper.

“There’s no question that the Commander’s actions were a little unorthodox,” Satele’s eyes drifted down to the bruising around Evie’s neck then back up to Evie’s eyes. There was a ghost of a question in the vibrant blue; the Jedi Master was wise enough not to voice it aloud. “But I think she’s received significant enough censure from my...” Satele swallowed the word son and struggled to find a suitable replacement for it. Evie’s voice swept into the silence to allow the Jedi Master to save face.

“I think it best, given the circumstances and the poor judgment on my part, that some punishment is issued. It might help to soothe the concerns of the Republic faction,” Evie suggested as Satele shot her an appraising stare. She did her best to avoid the Grand Master’s piercing gaze and met Darth Marr’s growing anger with as much courage as she could muster. Sensing her fear, Satele Shan spoke first.

“Ordinarily, acts of insubordination in the ranks of the Republic are dealt with by sending the offending party into the solitary wing of the brig. I trust you’d have no objections to this, Commander?”

“That sounds like a just punishment Grand Master. My sincerest apologies for the destruction of your tent,”

“I’ll escort her,” Marr intoned with a hint of a dark growl. “I’d like a word with Commander Colspur alone,”“As you wish, Darth Marr, though I’ll remind you that a Coalition requires us to embrace restraint in our methods,” 

 

As the sun descended across the jungle, Evie settled into the corner of the make-shift brig. There wasn’t much to the structure, four walls, constructed out of the timber the two factions could scrounge out of the jungle elements. It creaked and groaned with the steadily increasing wind. Outside, she heard the shuffling of feet, the cries of comrades to each other, some shouting out commands, others bellowing reminders of card games and libations to be had later.

Evie curled her legs up to her chest and let her cheek rest against her knees. Darth Marr’s resounding voice echoed in her mind. He’d been restricted to the use of words, in place of Force powers. That didn’t make him any less deadly. If she recalled the speech correctly, ’irresponsible,’’ unfit to lead’ were the two most significant takeaways. The rest stung but faded into the recesses of memory. She was tired, her neck ached in a way that made her wish that she hadn’t refused Kolto, but none of that compared to the bitter prick of dread she felt as she recalled Theron’s parting words to her.

It shouldn’t bother her; they were being watched when he said it—Evie saw two soldiers, a Republic and Imperial each with the unique brand on the inside of their wrists, observing from a distance. Still, the name Ardun Kothe, the last embittered words of her mother, those harsh opinions had sprung to his lips quickly. She leaned her head back against the wooden wall of her solitary prison. She could not recall a day in her recent memory when she’d ever felt so alone.

Master Shan hadn’t intended to pick the perfect punishment for her when she suggested the brig, but Evie’s own tortured thoughts did more than their fair share of the work. Five hours down, five more to go. Her hand drifted to her aching neck, rubbed, then dipped into her pocket to examine the data cylinder in her pocket. She ought to send Theron a message about the unique sun-shaped brand she saw on Hank’s wrist and ask him to look into it. Her fingers stopped short; instead of a smooth cylinder, she felt three shattered pieces. Panicked, Evie dug into her pocket and retrieved the other shattered remains. 

“Kriff,”

It must have taken the brunt of her fall when the assassin had pulled her to the ground. The pieces laid scattered across her open palm as Evie blinked at them in disbelief. She struggled to piece the cylinder back together. Maybe it was just the casing that was damaged? After several attempts, the pieces went from three to four in number. Like everything she’d attempted today, it seemed her lot to fail miserably.

Hot tears pricked her eyes; one saline tear raced down her dirty cheek. Evie used the sleeve of her jacket to brush it away, then got a look at the once pristine white color in the last of the fading light. Stained, torn in several different places, the jacket, her favorite of all those she owned, was ruined beyond repair. More tears fell. Evie struggled to push them all away. No, no, no. This was nonsense—she was above tears. It was unbecoming to give way to such self-indulgent behavior. 

She gave a small sniff, demanded her body to hold back the frustrations of the day; it was no use. The more she tried to fight it, the more furious she became at being so weak as to cry at a series of events that, in the grand scheme of her life, had not been tragic or traumatic. For the first time in years, she surrendered to the impulse, put her face into her hands, and openly wept. This would have continued into the wee hours of the night, had it not been for the sound of a familiar gait approaching from the South.

Evie wiped her eyes with the cleanest part of her sleeves and did her best to compose herself. The door creaked open with a soft groan; an MRE appeared, then a familiar voice followed.

“I come bearing food,” Theron said as his head peered around the corner of the door. “Or at least, something that resembles it,” He slumped into the room. While the brig was tall enough for Evie to walk upright, Theron had to stoop. He pulled the door closed behind him. “Officially, I’m here to release you from solitary. Master Satele lobbied on your behalf to Marr for a shorter sentence. I thought we could use the opportunity to swap intel,”

He was rambling, uncomfortable by her prolonged silence. Evie stifled a sniff and dabbed at her eyes again with the corner of her jacket, not able to trust her voice to speak. He slid the MRE in her direction, then produced a second as he tentatively searched in the shadows for her. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he stumbled over her legs and moved to sit beside her. His shoulder pressed against hers, a habit of his, she realized that had started on Corellia. Why this softened her resistance to his sudden overtures of kindness toward her, she couldn’t say, but she quietly reached for the MRE he brought and murmured a soft ‘thank you.’ 

He hungrily tucked into his, Evie picked at hers thoughtfully, uncertain of how to approach her questions for him, or if it was even wise to do so.

“Were you able to find out any information about Hank?” She asked between bites. The MRE was indistinguishable in the darkness—tasteless hash. She did her best to swallow it without retching.

“Bits and pieces. I’ll know more tomorrow. Comes from a-well-to-do family on Dromund Kaas. Mother had a gambling problem; the family was reduced to squalor up until the time that she started at Kaas City University. Would you be interested to learn that an anonymous sponsor paid for her to continue her schooling after her family’s finances ran dry?” 

Evie sat forward abruptly and put her MRE aside. 

“I would. You wouldn’t happen to know the date of those payments,” 

“The middle of her second year. I wasn’t able to trace the payments. Whoever her sponsor did an excellent job of covering their tracks,” 

Evie leaned forward into the light and reached for his arm, involuntarily to squeeze it. His eyes locked onto her face. His mouth fell open in shock at the sight of her swollen face. 

“There’s been a tragic loss,” Evie struggled in vain to change the subject, knowing that he’d seen the remnants of her tears. “The data cylinder was a victim of today’s fight,” 

She pulled the pieces out of her pocket and showed him the metallic remains. He nodded as he took in the cylinder, then brought his eyes back to search her face. 

“I can scrounge up another one. You’ve been crying,” 

The voice was tender, so much gentler than the tone he used earlier in the day that the tears threatened to spill down her cheeks again in response to the only kind words she’d heard all day. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never cried a day in my life,” A tell-tale tear drifted down her cheek. Theron reached out his finger and caught the evidence with a skeptical face. Evie relented with a shaky sigh. “It’s been a very trying day,” 

He scooted closer; his knuckles grazed both cheeks, a few more tears escaped. 

“Would it help if I told you that I liked your speech?”

Evie shook her head. In the grand list of disastrous events of the day, she’d completely forgotten about the speech. The tears came faster. Theron’s face looked panicked at the sudden increase of liquid. 

“Did you mean it? The things that you said today,” Evie burst out abruptly between sniffs. 

“What things?” He looked genuinely confused as he mentally ran through their list of interactions during the day, then his face fell. “That’s why you’re crying?” 

“I—no, of course, it isn’t just that...yes...” She let out a long tired sigh before she continued. “I didn’t expect to hear those things from...”

“What?”

“A partner,” She admitted in a voice so soft it almost didn’t carry over the whistle of the wind between the wooden slats. “Is that really what you think of me?” 

“Does it matter?”

“It shouldn’t. But it does,”

He nodded slowly, his thumb absently traced her cheek as he gathered his thoughts. “It was. After you...” He struggled to say the word ‘died.’ “Disappeared from Corellia, I questioned what I knew about you. You wanted me to take your word that you had nothing to do with the death of Ardun Kothe. I didn’t know if I could trust you. So, I did a little digging on my own, read about the Castilian Restraints, Ardun’s role in your conditioning, all of it. The footage the Star Cabal doctored of you was good, but after I started analyzing it, I saw all the inconsistencies. They forgot you’re right-handed; the assassin they used as a decoy slashed with the left,” 

“I see,” It troubled her that he knew all the sordid details about her short time with the SIS. She never meant for him to know all of it. “Has your opinion about my...what I’ve done changed?” 

His hands gently tilted her head up so that her watery gaze met the sincerity of his. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t,” He titled her face toward his and brushed his lips against the worried lines on her forehead. “My opinion matters that much to you?” 

“It always has,” 

“I wanted to make our cover believable; I took it too far,” A slow admiring grin slipped to his lips. “For the record, it’s been interesting seeing this other side of you today,”

“Terrified of giving speeches, and covered in dirt?”

“Human,” 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delayed chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> PS—How about the latest Rise of Skywalker trailer?!


	24. Hearts and Minds Part 1

They walked for several kilometers away from the Coalition camp before they both deemed the environment safe enough to speak civilly.

“Two of them were watching us as we left camp,” Evie remarked as she dabbed at her forehead with the edge of her sleeve. 

Her habitual jacket, the one that managed to, regardless of circumstance, to stay pristinely white up until yesterday, was missing. Today, she dressed for an adventure; a white blouse rolled up to the elbow, blue vest, pants that fit in a way that he didn’t want to admit he found distracting. He tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead of them, but today, with her hair swept off her neck into a neat bun, a flush brought on from the heat, she was a sight he couldn’t take his eyes off, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Three actually,” He reached back into his pack and retrieved his canteen. He offered it to her without a word, begging his mind to stay focused on the task at hand. “One of them has been following me through the camp. They aren’t exactly subtle or very smart. I kept an eye out with anyone with a limp. Whoever attacked you two days ago wasn’t part of the Coalition camp,” 

“Then that presents a new problem,” She accepted the canteen gratefully and sipped greedily. “Where exactly are they hiding, and how many of them are there?” 

She passed back the canteen; their fingers brushed. The bottle nearly slipped from his hand at the electric jolt he felt when their hands touched. He winced; Evie studied his face with burning curiosity. 

“The first sensor is over there,” He pointed in the direction of the sensor, hoping to prevent her from calling attention to his slip. 

“A hearts and minds tour. Rather a clever idea. How did you persuade Master Satele into pairing us for duty?” 

“She came up with the idea herself. Said it would be good for me to learn more flexibility in the way I think about the enemy,” 

“A lecture about flexibility?” Evie snorted in contempt. “A bit ironic coming from a Jedi,”

“I thought so, too, but sitting through the lecture meant we got to work together. So, I’d say it was worth it,” He said too much; he gave a little cough to cover up the enthusiasm he felt at being able to work with her alone. “I mean...it fit perfectly into my plan. While we’re completing tasks for the Coalition, we can also search for the assassin’s base of operation,” 

His voice trailed off as they approached the sensor. Buried beneath thick, cable-like vines and dense grass, the sensor had a thick layer of corrosive rust lining the once silver casing. Not an optimal existence for an already antiquated piece of technology. His implants did a brief scan, singed wires, and circuits, probably a result of the invasive plant life. He took his datapad out of his pocket to search for the schematics for the sensor. Evie stooped to precisely trim the vines away with one of her knives.

“What else does this plan of yours entail?” 

He didn’t have a plan beyond that; the fact that he had any plan at all was a new development from him. Theron looked up from his datapad in confusion. A sly-half smile pulled at the corner of her lips; a faint teasing glimmer twinkled in her eyes before she shyly turned her attention back to the vines. Shock coursed through his system. Yes, it was unmistakable—Evie was flirting with him. It took his brain a full minute to connect to his mouth. 

“I had one or two more surprises in mind,”

“Oh? Do tell,” 

“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise,” 

Finally! After months of attempting banter with her and tripping over his tongue every time, he managed a playful back and forth with her without failing. The old Theron Shan, the confident one, with a line for every situation, was back. He fought the urge to shoot his fist up into the air in triumph. 

Evie smothered a smile, then turned her attention back to the sensor. The vines were cut free; now, it was time to see the damage.

“What am I looking at?” 

“An ancient piece of technological history that should be put out of its misery,” 

“Yes, I can see that,” She paused for effect. “I was asking about the sensor,” 

Theron snorted in response, a solid dig at his age in the opening bout between them. Granted, he estimated he wasn’t that much older than she, give or take a few years. He’d get the upper hand again, somehow. In the act of chivalry, he told himself he’d let that jab slide. Evie carefully prised the control panel of the sensor open with the tip of her knife. Theron leaned over her shoulder to get a better look at the wiring inside. 

“It doesn’t look as bad as what the initial readings were saying. I think this one is salvageable. If we bypass the wiring and restructure the grid to feed off of the main conduits, that should give it enough power for the sensor to send a clear signal. Should be simple enough,” 

Evie looked at the wiring, then back at Theron then back at the installation again, cocked her head to one side with an exasperated expression and said: 

“Maybe for you, Technoplague,” Her use of the nickname the Empire coined for him after he destroyed the Ascendant Spear brought an affectionate smile to his face. “Would you mind explaining that again in something that resembles Basic?” 

“I thought you said SIS Agents don’t speak Basic properly,” 

“Poorly spoken Basic is still more comprehensible than your technological drivel,” 

“Haha, very funny,” He playfully bumped his shoulder into hers while his fingers reached into the control panel to start with the wiring. “You don’t like tech, do you?” 

“I’m old fashioned. I’ll take a blaster and a vibroknife in my hand over implants in my skull any day. Technology has its limits,” 

“Yeah, if you’re a hundred years old,” He snarked in return as, with a yank, one of the corroded wires came free into his hand. “Are you a hundred years old? I never asked,” 

“I’m old enough to recognize a leading question when I hear one, Theron. As always with the SIS, brilliant set-up but absolutely abysmal execution—I’m not telling you how old I am,” 

Theron dropped his head in defeat. Even without being tongue-tied, she still ran circles around him. At this rate, he’d have to start mental agility training to keep up with her. He put up his hands in mock surrender. 

“It was worth a shot, Red. By the way, I didn’t come all this way to be verbally murdered,” 

“Then why did you bring me? You know I have a limited skill set. Did you expect me to sit and fawn over you while you do all the work? 

“Is that one of your skills? I didn’t realize that was an option,” His cheeks ached from smiling. “Tell you what, this sensor is almost fixed. When we get to the next one, we’ll switch jobs,” 

They were in the middle of a sweltering jungle, under the blazing heat of the mid-morning sun; their banter made the misery almost tolerable. Evie pulled the canteen from out of his bag and took another thoughtful sip of water. She handed it to him, then hesitated before blurting out:

“Twenty-eight,” 

Theron, who was absorbed in rerouting the last of the power conduits, blinked up at her in confusion. 

“Twenty-eight what?” He asked slowly. Then it dawned on him—this was another rare show of trust. Theron reached for one of his tools, kept his eyes on his work to encourage the confidence. If he overreacted or prodded, she’d shut him out, a lesson he’d learned from experience. 

“I mean, I’m twenty-eight,” There was a beat, Evie pulled a face, then plunged into her question with chagrined curiosity. “How old are you?” 

The sensor hummed back into life. He brushed the dirt off his hands and stole the canteen away from her hands. 

“Thirty-one—this sensor’s done, we should probably move onto the next one,” 

She absorbed the information with a thoughtful air as he clicked the sensor cover back into place. 

“Have you ever thought about leaving the SIS?” 

Evie pretended to adjust the straps of her pack to avoid his gaze. 

He stood and shrugged on his pack.

“Am I being interrogated, Red?” 

He added his most charming smile to mask a frown. Evie looked uncomfortable, as though there was an upcoming question on her mind that he wouldn’t like. 

“No, of course not,” The response was rushed—guilty. “You said you were recruited into the SIS when you were fourteen. Sixteen years is a long time...” 

There it was again, an unspoken question that made the corner of her lips twitch in discomfort. 

“I threaten to leave once a season when the bureaucracy gets tough to swallow. I made an enemy of the Governor of Taris. She’s done everything in her power every since then to make my life miserable. I could be wrong, but I don’t think that’s your real question,” 

“Was it that obvious?” 

“Only to me,” He smiled, feeling chuffed that after year, he was finally able to decode her signals. “The second sensor is under that alcove,” 

They slid down the embankment, eyes warily fixed on the nearby prowling wildlife. 

Theron crouched and started to pull off the panel to the sensor; he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. 

“Not so fast Technoplague—this sensor is mine, remember?” 

“Is this because you legitimately want to help or because you want to prove to me that you’re not a hundred years old?”

Theron lifted the canteen archly to his lips. 

“The former,” She studied the tools he rolled out onto the ground and selected one. She twirled a hydrospanner between two fingers and added with a sly smile: “If I wanted to prove to you I wasn’t a hundred, I’d use other, less subtle methods,” 

Theron inhaled the water from his canteen; he coughed and sputtered in response to her innuendo. What was happening between them today? Evie’s mood had shifted, the usual Imperial reserve disappeared.

He took another cautious sip of his water, uncertain of where to proceed next. Where exactly was the line? For the moment, she was focused on the panel, surveying the damage with a critical eye. Evie’s hand reached between tools; her gaze narrowed as she blinked in confusion at the flashing conduits. She made a few adjustments, a snip of a few wires then: 

“I don’t understand why I’m not getting a signal,” 

Theron leaned in toward the open panel to get a better look. The shade from the overhanging rock formation cast a deep shadow; he shifted his head to his right to catch the light better. Their cheeks met, coarse scruff to smooth skin. All of the essential components he fixed in the last sensor were operational, but even he was at a loss about the malfunction. He tried to stay focused on the conduit and became distracted instead by the proximity of her ear, the soft and exposed curve of her neck with the faintest hue of healing purple bruising from the attack. Ordinarily, she would have shifted out of his path with a ‘tut’ of rebuke, but today she didn’t.

“I have a theory,” He settled back on the heels of his boots. “Either this sensor is broken beyond repair, or it’s been sabotaged with a signal jammer,” 

“Sabotage. To what end?” Evie rested her cheek against her knee with a distressed look. 

“Think about it. If you wanted to derail the Coalition without getting caught, this is the ideal way to do it. The jungles are dark at night. If you’re the night watch, how do you tell the difference between a patrol or an animal?”

“There would be no evidence, one of the factions fires upon the other. The jammer is removed, the sensor is functioning. It would look like a savage attack from one faction upon the other. I think we’ve underestimated our opponent,” Evie snaked her arm back into the console and dug around the inside of the console. “Can you hold the glow rod? I can’t see where they’ve hidden the jammer,” 

He pulled the glow rod from his tools and flicked it on. 

“Try digging underneath the wiring,” 

She grunted frustrated exertion as she pulled her head out of the console. Evie flexed and unflexed her hand, shook it out with a pained expression.

“The rod needs to be closer. It’s still too dark. I think I’ve found it, but I can’t see what it’s attached to,”

Without thinking, Theron took her hand into his. His fingers worked to knead the protesting muscle between her thumb and pointer finger. Her cheeks, which were already pink from exertion, went pinker still.

“I think I know what you were going to ask me earlier,” His thumb ran over the top of her hand, then shifted to the skin of her wrist. “Based on your line of questioning, I think your next question was about why I’ve never settled down, escaped the SIS for a more ordinary life,” 

“That wasn’t my next question,” She hastily attempted to brush a stray curl behind her ear in the mysterious way she had when she was lying. “But since you brought it up...” 

Her voice trailed off, and try as she could, the curl wouldn’t stay in place. He reached out to tuck the same stubborn curl behind her ear. His hand lingered against her cheek; then, on impulse, his thumb drifted down the curve of her neck. Wordlessly, he tilted her head to the side to get a better look at the bruising around her neck.

“I came close to settling down once. There was an Imperial Spy a few years back,” Evie’s eyes went wide with surprise. “I was too young and stupid to realize that what we had wasn’t love. Jonas pointed out that she was playing me. When I went to confront her, she’d disappeared with some invaluable intelligence about the Republic’s forces on Ord Mantell. Almost made off with my career too,” 

“What happened to her?” 

“SIS caught up with her eventually—she killed two of our best agents. She’s currently rotting in prison on Coruscant,” 

Theron hadn’t seriously thought about Kara in years. Mostly, he tried to black that memory out. The stain of his mistake followed him for months; he was demoted to clerical work. Then came the Ascendant Spear and the glory that followed it. Kara was a brief black mark on his record, but their time together left a lasting impression on him. He’d vowed never to put himself in the same situation again. The relationships that followed were a series of one night stands; maybe a short-lived fling here and there to stem the tide of loneliness that came from returning to the same empty apartment every night. He told himself that’s what he deserved, that spies could never experience anything more intimate, even convinced himself more than once that this nomadic sort of existence was what he wanted. Of course, none of that was entirely true, and given that he was in the middle of the Yavin jungle spilling his secrets to yet another Imperial spy, the lesson he learned from Kara didn’t take. 

“I’m sorry; it was wrong of me to pry,” 

Evie’s hand slid over his fingers, which he didn’t realize had traced absent-minded circles on the delicate skin of her neck. She gave his hand a warm, reassuring squeeze before she pulled away. Theron watched her retreat back to their assignment in a haze. 

“I’ll add it to the list of uncomfortable topics we’ve covered since we started working together. I think you’ve learned just about everything else. If you plan on taking any of the intel you’ve learned about me back to the Empire promise me you’ll have the decency to murder me before Jonas does,” 

“You have my word,” She gave him a lopsided grin that quickly faded into a more earnest expression. “Your secrets are safe with me. I’ll take them to the grave—though if the Twilight King has his way, that maybe sooner rather than later. Can you hold the light a little closer? Let’s see where the signal jammer is attached,” 

Theron retrieved the glow-rod, flicked it on, and peered over her shoulder to see where she needed the light. She dug ferociously underneath a pile of tangled wires. From the tight line of her mouth, the disorganized, chaotic nest of wires irked her desire for order. 

“I see it!” He exclaimed as a small flash of silver caught his eye. “To the left of your hand; underneath the green wires,” 

He reached his arms over her shoulders; one hand held the glow-rod to better light the inside of the console, the other pointed to the silver casing of the jammer. 

“Ah yes, very clever of them. If they didn’t have time to come back to remove it, it’s subtle enough to be missed. Keep the light steady,” 

Evie reached into the console, slid the tip of her knife underneath the jammer, and with a grunt of exertion, pushed up on the hilt of her knife until the jammer popped off with a flurry of sparks; Evie rocked backward into his chest with a force that temporarily knocked the wind out of him. 

“That should fix the problem. Let me run a quick scan to make sure we have a clear signal..” 

His voice caught in his throat. She was practically wrapped in his arms; stray curls kissed his cheek, his lips brushed against delicate ear lobe as he spoke; all of this was unintentional on his part. They owed it to the Coalition to complete the mission, return to the camp and resume their duties, but his chest ached with the desire to hold her like he had on Manaan as Tev Fith, and again in the alley on Rishi with his lips pressed to her throat while her fingers scraped through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Is there a signal?” 

“Yes,” He replied hoarsely; the moment was over, another pulse-pounding missed opportunity. “Two down, four more to go,” 

 

They worked on the third sensor in contemplative silence; Theron lost in torturous hypotheticals of what might have been had they not been interrupted continuously at every turn, Evie absorbed in her work inside the control panel. From the small half-smile of satisfaction on her face, she was secretly enjoying her work, despite her insistence that she hated anything to do with technology. 

His heart softened a little at the expression. Without meaning, he thought of the difference between Evie and Kara. Both were Imperial spies, but the commonalities ended there. Kara had a wildly captivating, passionate disposition on the surface that, once exposed, revealed a cold heart. Evie was something else entirely; not Kara’s exact opposite but almost. Where on the surface, Evie’s code of conduct for herself was unflinchingly rigid, beneath the surface, she was kind, surprisingly witty, and altogether extraordinary. In short, he found himself wishing that it’d been Evie he’d met on Ord Mantell instead of Kara. 

His mind circled back to the question about his past from earlier. 

“You’ve worked for Imperial Intelligence as long as I’ve been at the SIS. You never had the desire to settle down? I know the contract for your mother’s life made it impossible for you to leave, but surely there must have been someone special,” 

She cautiously set aside her tools, wiped her brow with the sleeve of her shirt, and took a long, considered sip of their shared canteen. 

“You could say that...I was engaged once,” 

She quickly set aside the canteen and picked up a different tool and stuck her head back into the control console. Shock, curiosity, and a surprisingly large amount of envy flooded his senses. 

“What happened? Was his Basic not up to your standard?” 

“Not exactly,” Evie paused, set aside her tool with a sigh, and turned to face Theron while she rested her cheek with an air of melancholy against her knee. “He died,” 

The sentence, just two words long, stole the air from his lungs.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Look, you don’t have to say anything else...” 

“Fair is fair. I asked you the same question—you answered it. You deserve the same honesty from me,”

He didn’t, but he knew better than to argue the point. 

“What happened?”

“I was recruited into the Cipher program; he was my Watcher liaison. Neither of us was there by choice; we bonded over that. He kept rising in the ranks—he might have been a Moff or a Minister if he’d continued. But he wanted to use his power to help me escape my contract. So he lobbied on behalf of my Mother and me to the Dark Council and anyone else who would listen. Two weeks later, they found him strangled to death in an alley on Dromund Kaas. They said it was a mugging. I always assumed it was his punishment for attempting to aid a former Republic spy,” 

The story was recited dispassionately like it was an old wound that though the scar was still present, had healed long ago. Suddenly, the fragments of her life made sense. This was the missing piece that shined a light on all the fascinating quirks, her willingness to sign her life away to protect him, the determination to refuse his help at a high cost to her well-being. He didn’t know what to say, how to soothe the wound, or repay the confidence she entrusted to him, so he sat in silence and handed her the tools she needed while she worked. This seemed to be the right choice because after a few minutes passed, she uttered a soft ‘thank you,’

The fourth sensor passed in much the same way. This time, Evie gave him tools while he fussed with the sensor. By the time they reached the fifth sensor, they were both equally exhausted, covered in dirt and scratches from the sharp spines of the jungle vines. His clothes were crusted with dried sweat. The sun lazily sank beneath the trees. They needed to pick up their pace if they were going to finish with the task before Yavin’s deadly predators came out to hunt. 

Evie dug into her pack and gave a small cry of triumph. From her bag, she pulled out two bronze bowls, each with a thick metal cover. 

“Here,” She handed one to him and kept the other for herself. He put his tools aside and accepted the offered bowl with a dubious air. “I couldn’t take another day of MREs, so I made us this instead,” 

Theron pulled off the lid of the bowl and peered at the contents. It was filled with thick noodles with a thick brown sauce that he visually didn’t know how to identify except that it smelled delicious and looked for more appealing than anything else he’d consumed during the week. 

“I don’t usually eat when I’m on a mission, but you made this for me?” 

“Not all of us can subsist on a diet of Caf and adrenals,” She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought. “And if we do, maybe we shouldn’t,” 

He burst out laughing at the note of silent reproach in her tone. Somehow in the course of their time together, she’d observed more of his habits than he intended to reveal. 

“What is it?” 

Evie looked inside her bowl of noodles then back at him with a wry smile.

“I don’t have a name for it. It was whatever I could find on the ship,” 

She handed him a fork; and watched as he took a tentative bite. The flavor was rich, the noodles palpable. He took several enthusiastic bites in a row with a grateful smile. The last time he’d had anything that wasn’t pre-packaged was the safe house on Manaan, the night they cooked together, the first time she’d kissed him. His mind drifted into yet another tantalizing scenario when he found himself saying between slurps of noodles: 

“You fight with the best of them, are shockingly well-versed in Whiskies, can cook an outstanding bowl of noodles seemingly out of thin air. Is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Speak coherent sentences in front of a crowd,”

“True,” He teased with a light-hearted wink. “How’s your Pazaak game?” 

“Adequate. Why do you ask?” 

“Because I’m challenging you to a few rounds of Pazaak tonight,” 

Evie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she slurped the last of her noodles. 

“Is now really the time for games? We still haven’t found the Twilight King’s base of operations. We’re supposed to be at odds with each other...”

“We won’t have time to find their base before the sun goes down, and we already have another mission on your groveling tour lined up for tomorrow. You have your stealth belt. What do you say? Just two hands of Pazaak. I promise it’ll be fun...”

“Fine,” She relented with a hint of a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But let’s make it more interesting, shall we?” 

“I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind?”

“If I win both hands, you have to tell me where you find your Caf beans,” 

His forkful of noodles missed his mouth and landed back into his bowl with a loud plop. Never, not in the ten years that since he found his magical beans, had he ever revealed their secret source. He twisted the last of his noodles around his fork with a thoughtful air. 

“Alright, it’s worth the risk—I accept. Although, those are pretty steep terms, Red. What are you willing to wager?” 

“I haven’t given it much thought. What do you want?” 

He almost choked on his noodles. They slid slowly down his throat; he unleashed a shaky laugh. Some of the things he wanted weren’t fit to say aloud. He went with a more diplomatic approach instead. 

“I’ll think about what I want while we’re working on that last sensor,”

With her bowls replaced in her bag, Evie crouched at Theron’s side and helped him pry off the warped control panel door. The ambient noise of the jungle went silent; the sensor had a strange metallic hum that steadily grew in volume and pitch. 

“Something isn’t right,” His voice trailed off. “Let me run a quick scan,” 

Evie beat him to the punch before his implants had time to run the diagnostic. 

“Detonator!” 

With a streak of red, Evie launched herself into his chest to push him out of the way right as the blast went off. The air was sucked from the surrounding area as the blast waves sent them careening back down the embankment. They rolled to a stop under cover of three giant ferns. His ears rang; he shook his head to clear his vision from the sulphuric smoke that stung his eyes. Evie shifted underneath him with a soft groan. 

“Are you alright?” Her voice sounded like he was listening to it from under the water of a large lake. 

As his vision cleared, he recognized a familiar pattern of freckles that he’d been unintentionally studying it all day every time she bent to retrieve a tool. His face, more specifically, his lips, were buried into the dip of her blouse.

“Yes, thanks to you,” 

His lips accidentally swept against the exposed skin at the base of her collar bone as he spoke. Oops! Granted, he’d been thinking about something similar all day, well actually, since Rishi, but he’d never meant to follow through with it. He lifted his head to meet what he felt sure would be her furious expression with a wince, but instead of chastising him, her eyes were partially closed in complete surrender. A small satisfied sigh escaped her lips. 

Their timing was predictably terrible. They narrowly survived an explosion; whether it was another assassination attempt or sabotage remained to be seen. The resulting catastrophe would mean several hours of reports and filings on both their parts. Half of the Coalition camp had seen the fireball of the explosion and had sent scouts yelling for fire suppression. Yet, in the height of the chaos, and the ashes of the smoldering sensor, reeking of sweat, grease, and dirt, he couldn’t resist impulse any longer. He dipped his head back down to press another, lower kiss at the end of her sternum when he heard a familiar voice, and not the one he wanted, call out his name. He stopped short to listen. 

“Shan?” Jonas’ tense voice called out over the roar of the flames. “Where are you?” 

Theron rolled his eyes to the sky and supressed a groan of frustration. 

“I’ll see you tonight,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Special thanks for the bookmarks and kudos! They made my week :)


	25. Hearts and Minds Part II

Dark clouds rippled like waves across the evening sky, blotting out the last of the sun’s rays, casting the Jungle in an eerie shade of grey-green light. The wind howled through the trees, causing them to creak at the force of impact. In the distance, thunder rolled, and a brief flash of lightning streaked across the sky with a brilliant glow. Theron watched from the cockpit of his shuttle as activity in the Coalition camp crawled to a stop; occupants hunkered down in their flimsy canvas tents to wait out the impending storm. One by one, large drops fell from the sky to the dusty earth, leaving a trail of thick red mud and oppressive humidity. Rain splattered against the windows of his dilapidated shuttle, then gushed down the roof in streaming rivulets. 

Reluctantly, he pulled his boots off the control console and set aside his datapad. The sudden fierceness of the storm dictated that Evie wouldn’t be coming to play Pazaak tonight. Probably just as well. It wasn’t appropriate given the day's events. They’d nearly been blown to bits, the list of tasks they’d been assigned had grown three-fold. Playing games seemed like the exact wrong response, but asking Evie to visit him alone in his shuttle without some pretext seemed worse. He couldn’t put his finger on why except that it put him on edge. 

He grunted and slowly stood from his seat. The day’s events had been murder on his injuries; his still-healing broken leg ached from the rain. His eyes darted to the game of Pazaak that he’d eagerly laid out on the small makeshift table he’d constructed out of shipping crates, then to the open shuttle door. The wind shifted, blowing the torrential showers into the shuttle, chain lightning linked across the sky. Thunder rolled distantly, then exploded into the strange stillness. With a long sigh, he pressed the button to shut the ramp and resigned himself to a long night of reviewing data files. The durasteel door screeched mechanically to a close. 

He dropped his chin to his chest with a rueful smile. He used to relish working alone; now, the shuttle seemed emptier without the potential for company. In short, he’d become too attached to her too quickly, a problem he supposed he’d have to deal with at some point. 

He stopped abruptly; a pair of muddy wet footprints lined the durasteel walkway. Odd, he hadn’t walked outside into the mud. Then he heard it, the polite ‘tut,’ followed by a soft laugh at his back. He whirled around in time to see Evie disengage her stealth belt. Soaked to the skin, hair plastered to her skull, shivering in the center of his shuttle with a smug grin, her eyes twinkled merrily at his dumbfounded expression.

“You’re lucky I’m not an assassin. Hello, by the way,” 

Theron fought the urge to grin at her from ear to ear. 

“In the Republic, it’s polite to knock. How long have you been standing there?” 

“Not long; I would have knocked, but the door was open. Besides, I thought it best not to linger in the rain. You wouldn’t happen to have a blanket, would you?” 

“I’ll do you one better,” He moved around the room with tremendous energy. The dull ache of his leg—gone. The hours of files to review—forgotten. He slid open the small metal drawers beneath his bed and stooped to retrieve a clean shirt and pants. “They’ll be a little big on you, but at least they’re dry. If you give me what you’re wearing, I’ll throw it over the heat vents until they’re dry. The fresher is around that corner,” 

While she changed, he busied himself in the small galley kitchen. He didn’t have anything of substance to offer her. As he peered into his threadbare cabinets, he had an eye-opening glimpse into his abysmal eating habits. Geez, he needed to eat better. 

A cursory search revealed a small sleeve of tasteless crackers and a tin of Nerf hash that probably belonged to the shuttle’s previous owner. His hand swept through the darker corners in hopes of revealing some hidden supply of food; instead, his fingers tips met dust and cobwebs. He thought ahead enough to have the Pazaak table set up, why didn’t he think about something as practical as having food to serve?

“I don’t have much here. If you’re hungry later, I can sneak out for a few MREs. Right now, I can offer you Whiskey, or Caf,” 

“Why not both?”

Evie stood on the fringe of the room with a shy smile as she gestured at her thrown together ensemble and offered a soft ‘ta duh.’ She rolled each leg half a dozen times to compensate for their size difference, his shirt stopped at her knees and slid off to one side to reveal a bare freckle adorned shoulder. Added to the ensemble, she cinched her stealth belt around her waist to keep his pants from sliding down. With her hair drying in soft looping curls, and a hint of pink to her cheeks, he’d never seen a lovelier sight. He thought to tell her so, then stopped himself short--keep it light, Theron. 

“It’ll do,” He replied with a dismissive tone, though every few seconds, his eyes darted over to where she stood. Why he felt a surge of pride at the sight of her wearing his clothes, he didn’t know. He poured two mugs of Caf and added a small dash of Whiskey to each. Evie sat at his hastily constructed Pazaak table and studied the set-up with a soft curve of a smile to her lips. 

“Have you thought about what you’re willing to wager?”

He downed a gulp of his Caf; the mixture of the two liquids burned down his throat. He fought the urge to cough as the fire spread into his lungs. In contrast, Evie appeared unaffected and went in for a second thoughtful sip. 

“I have,” She said with a mysterious smile between drinks. “But I’m so confident in my ability to win the game; I don’t think I’ll need to say it,” 

“Oh? That’s how you’re going to play, huh?” 

He swept up the cards off the top of the crate and started to shuffle them. 

“That’s how I’m going to win,” She amended with a teasing wink. “But on the slim chance that I don’t, if I lose the game, I’ll give you my last bottle of Whiskey from my private collection,”

“Now you’re talking,” Theron’s mouth salivated as he thought about the Whiskey. “Alright Red, let’s see what you’ve got,” 

 

Two hours later, they each had won one game apiece. The atmosphere in the shuttle rippled with tension, while overhead the storm boomed and crashed in the night’s sky. Evie’s mischievous expression diminished into intense focus—she wanted the secret of his Caf recipe, desperately. A curl drifted across her forehead; she ignored it, her eyes darted from card to card in her hand. Her teeth bit into her lower lip while her brows settled into a thoughtful frown. Theron considered his opponent, then his cards. 

“It’s your bet,” He reminded her softly after they’d gone two minutes in silence with nothing but the eruption of thunder to fill the void. 

“I know, you’re rushing me on purpose,”

“Maybe. I think you’re trying to delay the inevitable, Red. The math isn’t in your favor. If I had to guess, based on your previous bets, you have a lower hand than I do,” 

“You’re sure of that?”

“Positive; I’m calling,” Theron laid his cards out with a decisive slap. “I have seventeen. Not a bad hand if I do say so myself. Now, about our wager...” 

His voice trailed off as Evie, with a broad smile, set her cards out one by one. 

“Nineteen,” 

Theron looked at her cards, then back at Evie, then back at the cards. His mouth dropped open as he quickly counted each card. 

“How in the...that’s impossible...” 

Evie swept the cards back into her hand and offered them to him to view with a gloating smile. Then, before he could take a closer look at them, she drew them back into her hand and set them face down onto the crate.

“In Pazaak, you play your opponent and not the hand you have,” Evie tucked her hair behind her ears, then said a little too quickly: “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take your secret recipe,”

Theron tilted his head to one side and crossed his arms at his chest. Something wasn’t right with her behavior. It lacked her usual confidence; this was a tremendous victory for her. Ordinarily, there would have been at least three gloating digs at his expense. Instead, she seemed skittish, out of sorts. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“What’s the rush? Stay awhile. The storm hasn’t let up, and there’s plenty of Caf to go around,”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly intrude on your hospitality any more,” 

She stood slowly from her stool and made a show of stretching. Theron rose from his seat and pretended to drain the last of his Caf, then while he did, reached ever so slightly across the table for the folded hand of cards. Evie beat him to the punch, took her cards, shuffled them into her hand, and tucked them behind her back casually. 

“I insist that you stay. By the way, do you mind if I have a look at the winning hand? I rarely lose at Pazaak. I want to wallow in my shame a little longer,” 

Evie’s eyes bugged almost imperceptibly, and she swallowed hard before she managed: 

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly stay. I’ve completely lost track of time. This was an enjoyable way to spend the evening, though. We’ll have to play again sometime,”

“Why won’t you let me see the cards, Red? You wouldn’t be hiding something, would you?” 

“No, of course not. You wouldn’t be accusing me of cheating, would you? 

He put out his hand palm face-up in a silent request to see the cards. Evie’s lips trembled with a hint of a defiant, mischievous grin as she shook her head. Theron reached out to grab the cards playfully from her hand and narrowly missed by a centimeter as she ducked under his arm. She spun away and moved with a faint laugh to escape. As she walked past, on impulse, his arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her back in his direction. Evie’s back crashed into his chest with a muffled ‘oomph,’ they careened backward. Theron landed gracelessly into the pilot’s chair. Evie fell with him and landed in an untidy heap in his lap. They stared wide-eyed at each other for a beat, then collapsed into peals of laughter. 

“I’m not accusing you of cheating, but you have to admit this doesn’t seem like the behavior of an innocent woman,” Theron whispered against her ear with a breathless laugh. “If you have nothing to hide, show me the cards. I’m not telling you where I find my Caf beans until I see them...” 

“Fine, I cheated,” She admitted in a low voice that sounded had the decency to look ashamed, even though he could tell that she felt nothing akin to the emotion. She held up the four winning cards and hung her head in defeat. “I brought my deck of cards from my ship as a backup. You can’t blame me for trying; the Caf you make is some of the best I’ve ever had,” 

“I’m flattered you think so. Though, you didn't need to cheat; I was planning on giving you the Caf recipe whether you won the game or not,” 

He shifted to sit more comfortably in the chair and give his aching leg a reprieve. He thought, wrongly, that she’d use the opportunity to replace the boundary between them, stand, make some flimsy excuse for the sake of Imperial propriety. Instead, she subtly sank further into the cavity of his chest so that the back of her head rested between his shoulder and his neck. Maybe she was waiting for him to put himself in check, except there was no part of him that wanted to. 

“You were? Why?” 

He struggled to speak, the muscles in his throat clenched in response. 

“Because I...” He swallowed hard; a few more words, then the confession would be out in the open. Then again, if she didn’t feel the same way, he ran the risk of losing her friendship forever. “I’ve never met anyone willing to bring their deck of Pazaak cards to gain access to a Caf recipe. If you like it that much, I’ll share it with you. You know all my other secrets. What’s one more?” 

They rested this way, Theron with his arms wrapped around her waist, Evie with the back of her head tucked into his shoulder and listened to the fury of the storm, a contrast of tranquil contentment to the raging tempest.

A brilliant flash of lightning lit the sky; thunder roared into the silence, the lights of the shuttle grew bright, then dimmed into darkness. The emergency back-up power hummed into life, leaving the room cast in a soft glow of amber. As always, he had the worst luck with timing. Why had he never thought of investing in a new generator for his shuttle before this moment? 

“I’ll be right back. The generator sometimes needs a little motivation to keep running. It probably thinks it’s drowning,” He shifted his hands lower on her waist, helped her to stand, then reluctantly let them slip away. 

“I should probably go,” Evie’s voice hesitated as she spoke; her face a taut mask of indecision, as though privately at war with herself. “I’ve lingered overlong as it is. Besides if the storm took a turn, I could be stuck here all night,”

“That would be bad,” He almost choked on the lie. “Smart decision. That’s why you’re the Commander—“

Her hands seized the lapels of his jacket; Evie’s lips shyly met his, then quickly pulled away. 

“I’m sorry,” She said with a breathless, guilty blink. “I’ve never once asked: is this alright with you? 

Theron’s hands cupped her cheeks, and, unable to think of any other suitable response, he feathered his lips over hers, again, and again, until they were both breathless. The pad of his thumb tenderly traced her cheek as he stole another kiss.

“I’ll never complain. Though for the record, this isn’t your way of trying to get the Caf recipe out of me, is it? No tricks? You’re not going to open another canister of coma gas on me, are you?”

“No tricks. Can I stay?” 

“What about your crew? Won’t they worry that you’re missing? 

“They think I’m on a routine scouting mission further to the east of the jungle. With this storm, I’ll, unfortunately, be waylaid all night,” 

“All night?” His mind dissected the sentence in confusion. “At least until the rain stops, you mean?”

She didn’t answer; her hands slid up his chest, hesitated, then slowly eased beneath the seams of his jacket. Little by little, she inched it off his arms until it fell with a soft slap against the corrugated floor. Their minds, it seemed, were synced on the same trajectory. His mind went fuzzy as she slipped his shirt over his head. With gentle pressure on his shoulders, she pushed him back into the pilot’s chair, then chased his lips greedily with hers. She straddled his legs with hers and leaned in to caress his ear lobe with her lips. 

Oh stars, this was happening. Except, this was Evie, his closest confidant, the only person in the universe he woke up in the morning with the desire to see, the first person in his life to ever learn all of his secrets. What if they risked everything for one night of passion, and it destroyed everything they built? 

“Evie wait,” He could barely breathe. “This might change things between us. After we’re done on Yavin, we may never have the opportunity to see each other again,”

“I know,” 

Theron rested a hand against her cheek and gently brushed a lingering curl away from her eye. 

“You’ll always be my closest friend regardless of what happens tonight, but I don’t want this to be something you’ll regret...I don’t want to—“

“I’m your closest friend?” 

Her eyes searched his; he felt a surge of embarrassment. This was not how he wanted to have this particular conversation with her--bare-chested, pulse racing, nether regions aching for her in agony--in short, entirely at her mercy with no method of protecting himself in sight. 

“Well, that’s not exactly what I mean. We’re spies after all. It’s not really like there’s a lot of opportunities to meet...” He stopped with a slow shake of his head--more lies. He took a deep breath and summoned his courage. “Yes, I don’t know how or why. I can’t explain it, but you are. I’m sorry if that makes this weird or if that changes...”

Evie’s fingertips rested gently against his lips. 

“Theron, I want this...” She confessed with a whisper; she brought her forehead to rest against his. She wrenched her eyes closed as though the next confession physically pained her to admit it. “I want you,” 

For a minute, he thought that the storm had interfered with the frequencies of his implants; surely he hadn’t heard her correctly. 

“What did you say?” 

“I want you,” 

“Oh,” He gaped at her stupidly; the words slowly sank to the bottom of his consciousness. “OH,” 

His heart threatened to burst out of his chest with relief and joy. Enthusiastically, he captured her lips with his, allowed his hands and mouth to explore every freckle, memorize every curve they found. His lips drifted to the pink scar that ran around her throat and traced their way around the line to where it stopped at the base of her ear. Evie tensed; her breath stilled, then, ever so softly, she let out a soft moan. 

The sound drove him wild; his mouth hungrily sought hers. He looked for more ways to provoke a similar noise again. He slipped his hands underneath her shirt, well technically, it was his favorite shirt, but at this point, it was as good as hers—it looked better on her anyway. His fingertips caressed the small of her back. A gasp of pleasure echoed in the silence as her lips broke free from his in surprise. 

Despite his best efforts to contain it, he smiled. He drank in the sight of her, lips swollen, eyes darker and made wild with desire. She pulled him closer for another kiss; her lips parted, their tongues met. Their bodies curled into each other; his heart hammered in his chest. 

His hands slid from her back, explored the curve her hips, then slipped steadily upward until they skimmed the soft fabric of her still damp kit. His fingers slipped underneath, and with expert care, he caressed each breast, traced each nipple with his thumb until he coaxed a groan from her throat that sounded suspiciously like the start of his name. All at once, it was too much. He pulled his lips away from hers breathlessly, rested his forehead against hers while he struggled to keep himself in check. 

“Sorry, I’ve uhhhhh...I’ve wanted this for a while,” 

“Me too,” Evie slid off of his lap, wove her fingers between his, and took his hand with a shy smile. “Follow me,” 

She led him over to his now seemingly inadequate bed in the corner of the shuttle. It was all wrong, not at all as he’d imagined it. From the weather to the location, to the circumstances that led to this moment, every detail left something to be desired. Nerves kicked in; his mind started to race toward visions of disaster—all the things that he could say or do to ruin the moment instantly sprang to mind. 

He hesitated at the foot of the bed. Keep it light; keep it casual. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done something similar with other women before. Except, this wasn’t like the other times. He loved her; the woman who put a vibroknife to his throat and a hole in his jacket the day they met on Dromund Kaas in a stinking, filthy alley what seemed like a lifetime ago. His eyes met hers, he searched for hesitation, for the typical Imperial reserve that marked all of their interactions, and found none. 

Slowly, she crossed her arms, pulled her shirt off her head, and with a teasing expression, tossed it at his face. He dropped it to the floor with a soft chuckle—his nervousness dissipated. In the low light, her skin glowed as though lit from within, the moment crackled as lightning splintered through the darkness. 

“Evie, are you sure?” 

“Always,”

The word belonged to the every person in the galaxy, devoid of vitality or significance. Yet, when warmly spoken by her, in the same voice she’d used when she first said it to him as a promise to protect his jacket from harm, the word ‘always’ belonged solely to them now. He reached out to touch her cheek. Objectively, this probably wasn’t the best time for him to tell her he loved her, but with a quivering breath, the words started to tumble from his lips. 

“Evie, before we...there’s something I have to tell you...” 

A sharp trill of a comm echoed in the resounding silence. They froze, both silently wishing the sound away. The comm beeped again. Evie unleashed an aggravated sigh of frustration. 

“Kriff,” 

“Leave it,” Theron pleaded with her. “It can wait until the morning,” 

Theron’s hands tangled in her hair; Evie’s fingers urgently fumbled with the clasp of his holster in a desperate bid to outrun reality. He buried his lips into her neck, and with an exploratory trail of lips and the faintest scraping of teeth, worked his way down to her navel. The comm beeped again, and again until finally, Evie surrendered. 

“I can’t leave it. You made me the Coalition Commander, remember?” Her lips sought his; her teeth nipped his lower lip with a devilish smile as she reluctantly slipped out of his arms. Theron dropped his head in defeat against the edge of his bed. Idiot! The moment had been perfect, and he’d been so worried about confessing his feelings instead of living in the present that the moment slipped between his fingers. Evie searched for his hastily discarded shirt, and in the low-level light, pulled it on backward. She reached for her comm and curled herself into a corner of his ship so that he couldn’t be seen in the background. 

“Commander, this is Lana. I’m sorry to disturb you. I’ve been trying to reach Theron to help me deal with this mess, but his comm is switched off,” Lana’s sharp eyes caught Evie’s disheveled hair, the swollen lips, Theron’s favorite shirt—Lana’s lips pursed briefly in silent seething irritation. Theron knew the look—it meant a lecture for him later. “Should I try again in a few minutes? It appears I’ve caught you in bed,” 

Evie sat straighter on the floor, reading the urgency in Lana’s voice and did her best not to appeared ruffled by Lana’s insinuation. 

“There’s no time like the present. What’s happened?”

“A Coalition patrol has issued a distress signal. When we traced the signal, we discovered they’re being held captive by a tribe of Massasi warriors. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t bother you with something so trivial, but I thought you should know that Jonas Balkar is amongst the missing. If you’re inclined to help with the rescue party, I have a briefing scheduled in ten minutes,” 

“I’ll be right there, 

“Yes, I thought you might. If you happen to see Theron along the way, would you mind passing on the message? Lana out,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first time I’ve written a chapter like this one, so hopefully it’s okay.


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